Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/toastershandbook00fann_0 


Toaster’s  Handbook 


JOKES  STORIES,  AND 
QUOTATIONS 


Compiled  by 


PEGGY  EDMUND 

and 


HAROLD  WORKMAN  WILLIAMS 


Introductions  by 


MARY  KATHARINE  REELY 


THIRD  EDITION 

REVISED,  WITH  NEW  MATERIAL 


NEW  YORK 

THE  H.  W.  WILSON  COMPANY 

London:  Grafton  & Co. 

1921 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
THE  H.  W.  WILSON  COMPANY 


FIRST  EDITION  PUBLISHED  APRIL,  I914 

SECOND  EDITION,  REVISED,  PUBLISHED 
SEPTEMBER,  1914 

THIRD  EDITION,  REVISED,  PUBLISHED 
APRIL,  1916 

THIRD  EDITION,  REPRINTED,  AUGUST,  I919 
THIRD  EDITION,  SECOND  REPRINTING,  DECEMBER,  192] 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


PREFACE 


io 

s 

-ft 


exnerfpr^f  ^ fngh.tens  a man  as  the  announcement  that  he  is 

occasion  AIM?0^  ‘°  & t0aSt  °n  S°me  apPalling'y  near-by 
occasion  A 1 ideas  he  may  ever  have  had  on  the  subject  melt 

away  and  like  a drowning  man  he  clutches  furiously  at  the 

nearest  solid  object.  This  book  is  intended  for  such  rescue 

purpose,  buoyant  and  trustworthy  but,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  not 

. nLet  fr‘ght.ened  toaster  turn  first  to  the  key  word  of  his 
topic  in  tins  dictionary  alphabet  of  selections  and  perchance  he 

' 7 ^nd  7^’  St°ry’  definition  or  verse  that  may  felicitously 
.ntroduce  h,s  remarks.  Then  as  he  proceeds  to  ouffine  Ss  “lk 

7h-  °(f  A-  mt°  Sentences-  he  may  find  under  one  of  the  many 

home  th  aMmgSua  Wt  Whkh  WiU  haPplly  and  sc*ntillatingly  drive 
home  the  ideas  he  is  unfolding. 

insert!^  ‘h6  larg6r  Part  °f  tHe  C°ntentS  is  humorous,  there  are 
many  quotations  of  a serious  nature  which  may  serve 
as  appropriate  literary  ballast.  7 6 

j°.keS  and  <Juotes  ^thered  for  the  toaster  have  been 
placed  under  the  subject  headings  where  it  seemed  that  thev 
might  be  most  useful,  even  at  the  risk  of  the  joke  turning  on  the 
compilers.  To  extend  the  usefulness  of  such  pseudo-cataloging 
cross  references,  similar  and  dissimilar  to  those  of  a library  card 
catalog,  have  been  included.  y a 

cenfalklhat  .'h71  familiar,  «s 

remark  that  the  friends  one  likes  best  are  those  who  have  been 

S h";  "dr*'d  ““  ,h'  »«'»«  in 

acauainm  u’  "e  St°rieS  °f  a risinS  generation,  whose 

acquaintance  all  may  enjoy. 

theiNerly  a11  these  new  and  0ld  friends  have  before  this  made 
the  r bow  in  print  and  since  it  rarely  was  certain  where  they 

fof  th  ^ ltt  6 attCmPt  haS  been  made  t0  credit  any  source 

ment  to^he  "7  COmp!!erS  bereby  make  a sweeping  acknowledg- 
ment to  the  funny  editors  of  many  books  and  periodicals. 

51 993'* 


ON  THE  POSSESSION  OF  A 
SENSE  OF  HUMOR 

“Man,”  says  Hazlitt,  “is  the  only  animal  that  laughs  and 
weeps,  for  he  is  the  only  animal  that  is  struck  with  the  differ- 
ence between  what  things  are  and  what  they  ought  to  be.” 
The  sources,  then,  of  laughter  and  tears  come  very  close  to- 
gether. At  the  difference  between  things  as  they  are  and  as  they 
ought  to  be  we  laugh,  or  we  weep;  it  would  depend,  it  seems, 
on  the  point  of  view,  or  the  temperament.  And  if,  as  Horace 
Walpole  once  said,  “Life  is  a comedy  to  those  who  think,  a 
tragedy  to  those  who  feel,”  it  is  the  thinking  half  of  humanity 
that,  at  the  sight  of  life’s  incongruities,  is  moved  to  laughter, 
the  feeling  half  to  tears.  A sense  of  humor,  then,  is  the  possses- 
sion  of  the  thinking  half,  and  the  humorists  must  be  classified  at 
once  with  the  thinkers. 

If  one  were  asked  to  go  further  than  this  and  to  give  off- 
hand a definition  of  humor,  or  of  that  elusive  quality,  a sense 
of  humor,  he  might  find  himself  confronted  with  a difficulty. 
Yet  certain  things  about  it  would  be  patent  at  the  outset:  Women 
haven’t  it;  Englishmen  haven’t  it;  it  is  the  chief est  of  the  virtues, 
for  tho  a man  speak  with,  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels, 
if  he  have  not  humor  we  will  have  none  of  him.  Women  may 
continue  to  laugh  over  those  innocent  and  innocuous  incidents 
which  they  find  amusing;  may  continue  to  write  the  most  delight- 
ful of  stories  and  essays — consider  Jane  Austen  and  our  own 
Miss  Repplier — over  which  appreciative  readers  may  continue  to 
chuckle;  Englishmen  may  continue,  as  in  the  past  to  produce 
the  most  exquisite  of  the  world’s  humorous  literature — think  of 
Charles  Lamb — yet  the  fundamental  faith  of  mankind  will  remain 
unshaken:  women  have  no  sense  of  humor,  and  an  Englishman 
cannot  see  a joke!  And  the  ability  to  “see  a joke”  is  the  infal- 
lible American  test  of  the  sense  of  humor. 


VI 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


But  taking  the  matter  seriously,  how  would  one  define 
humor?  When  in  doubt,  consult  the  dictionary,  is,  as  always, 
an  excellent  motto,  and,  following  it,  we  find  that  our  trust- 
worthy friend,  Noah  Webster,  does  not  fail  us.  Here  is  his 
definition  of  humor,  ready  to  hand : humor  is  “the  mental  faculty 
of  discovering,  expressing,  or  appreciating  ludicrous  or  absurdly 
incongruous  elements  in  ideas,  situations,  happenings,  or  acts,” 
with  the  added  information  that  it  is  distinguished  from  wit  as 
“less  purely  intellectual  and  having  more  kindly  sympathy  with 
human  nature,  and  as  often  blended  with  pathos.”  A friendly 
rival  in  lexicography  defines  the  same  prized  human  attribute 
more  lightly  as  “a  facetious  turn  of  thought,”  or  more  specific- 
ally in  literature,  as  “a  sportive  exercise  of  the  imagination  that 
is  apparent  in  the  choice  and  treatment  of  an  idea  or  theme.” 
Isn’t  there  something  about  that  word  “sportive,”  on  the  lips  of 
so  learned  an  authority,  that  tickles  the  fancy — appeals  to  the 
sense  of  humor? 

Yet  if  we  peruse  the  dictionary  further,  especially  if  v/e 
approach  that  monument  to  English  scholarship,  the  great 
Murray,  we  shall  find  that  the  problem  of  defining  humor  is  not 
so  simple  as  it  might  seem ; for  the  word  that  we  use  so  glibly, 
with  so  sure  a confidence  in  its  stability,  has  had  a long  and 
varied  history  and  has  answered  to  many  aliases.  When  Shake- 
speare called  a man  “humorous”  he  meant  that  he  was  change- 
able and  capricious,  not  that  he  was  given  to  a facetious  turn  of 
thought  or  to  a “sportive”  exercise  of  the  imagination.  When 
he  talks  in  “The  Taming  of  the  Shrew”  of  “her  mad  and  head- 
strong humor”  he  doesn’t  mean  to  imply  that  Kate  is  a practical 
joker.  It  is  interesting  to  note  in  passing  that  the  old  meaning 
of  the  word  still  lingers  in  the  verb  “to  humor.”  A woman  still 
humors  her  spoiled  child  and  her  cantankerous  husband  when 
she  yields  to  their  capriciousness.  By  going  back  a step  further 
in  history,  to  the  late  fourteenth  century,  we  met  Chaucer’s 
physician  who  knew  “the  cause  of  everye  maladye,  and  where 
engendered  and  of  what  humour”  and  find  that  Chaucer  is  not 
speaking  of  a mental  state  at  all,  but  is  referring  to  those  physi- 
ological humours  of  which,  according  to  Hippocrates,  the  human 
body  contained  four:  blood,  phlegm,  bile,  and  black  bile,  and  by 
which  the  disposition  was  determined.  We  find,  too,  that  at  one 
time  a “humour”  meant  any  animal  or  plant  fluid,  and  again  any 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


vii 

kind  of  moisture.  “The  skie  hangs  full  of  humour,  and  I think 
we  shall  haue  raine,”  ran  an  ancient  weather  prophet’s  predic- 
tion. Which  might  give  rise  to  some  thoughts  on  the  paradoxical 
subject  of  dry  humor. 

Now  in  part  this  development  is  easily  traced.  Humor,  mean- 
ing  moisture  of  any  kind,  came  to  have  a biological  significance 
and  was  applied  only  to  plant  and  animal  life.  It  was  restricted 
later  within  purely  physiological  boundaries  and  was  applied  only 
to  those  “humours”  of  the  human  body  that  controlled  tempera- 
ment. From  these  fluids,  determining  mental  states,  the  word 
took  on  a psychological  coloring,  but — by  what  process  of  evolu- 
tion did  humor  reach  its  present  status ! After  all,  the  scientific 
method  has  its  weaknesses ! 

We  can,  if  we  wish,  define  humor  in  terms  of  what  it  is  not. 
We  can  draw  lines  around  it  and  distinguish  it  from  its  next  of 
kin,  wit.  This  indeed  has  been  a favorite  pastime  with  the 
jugglers  of  words  in  all  ages.  And  many  have  been  the  attempts 
to  define  humor,  to  define  wit,  to  describe  and  differentiate  them, 
to  build  high  fences  to  keep  them  apart. 

“Wit  is  abrupt,  darting,  scornful ; it  tosses  its  analogies  in 
your  face;  humor  is  slow  and  shy,  insinuating  its  fun  into  your 
heart,”  says  E.  P.  Whipple.  “Wit  is  intellectual,  humor  is  emo- 
tional; wit  is  perception  of  resemblance,  humor  of  contrast — 
of  contrast  between  ideal  and  fact,  theory  and  practice,  promise 
and  performance,”  writes  another  authority.  While  yet  another 
points  out  that  “Humor  is  feeling — feelings  can  always  bear 
repetition,  while  wit,  being  intellectual,  suffers  by  repetition.” 
The  truth  of  this  is  evident  when  we  remember  that  we  re- 
peat a witty  saying  that  we  may  enjoy  the  effect  on  others, 
while  we  retell  a humorous  story  largely  for  our  own  enjoyment 
of  it. 

Yet  it  is  quite  possible  that  humor  ought  not  to  be  defined. 
It  may  be  one  of  those  intangible  substances,  like  love  and 
beauty,  that  are  indefinable.  It  is  quite  probable  that  humor 
should  not  be  explained.  It  would  be  distressing,  as  some  one 
pointed  out,  to  discover  that  American  humor  is  based  on  Ameri- 
can dyspepsia.  Yet  the  philosophers  themselves  have  endeavored 
to  explain  it.  Hazlitt  held  that  to  understand  the  ludicrous,  we 
must  first  know  what  the  serious , is.  And  to  apprehend  the 
serious,  what  better  course  could  be  followed  than  to  contem- 


viii 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


plate  the  serious — yes  and  ludicrous — findings  of  the  philosophers 
in  their  attempts  to  define  humor  and  to  explain  laughter.  Con- 
sider Hobbes:  ‘‘The  passion  of  laughter  is  nothing  else  but 

sudden  glory  arising  from  the  sudden  conception  of  eminency  in 
ourselves  by  comparison  with  the  inferiority  of  others,  or  with 
our  own  formerly.”  According  to  Professor  Bain,  “Laughter 
results  from  the  degradation  of  some  person  or  interest  possess- 
ing dignity  in  circumstances  that  excite  no  other  strong  emotion.” 
Even  Kant,  desisting  for  a time  from  his  contemplation  of  Pure 
Reason,  gave  his  attention  to  the  human  phenomenon  of  laughter 
and  explained  it  away  as  “the  result  of  an  expectation  which  of 
a sudden  ends  in  nothing.”  Some  modern  cynic  has  compiled  a 
list  of  the  situations  on  the  stage  which  are  always  “humorous.” 
One  of  them,  I recall,  is  the  situation  in  which  the  clown-acrobat, 
haviAg  made  mighty  preparations  for  jumping  over  a pile  of 
chairs,  suddenly  changes  his  mind  and  walks  off  without  attempt- 
ing it.  The  laughter  that  invariably  greets  this  “funny”  maneuver 
would  seem  to  have  philosophical  sanction.  Bergson,  too,  the 
philosopher  of  creative  evolution,  has  considered  laughter  to  the 
extent  of  an  entire  volume.  A reading  of  it  leaves  one  a little 
disturbed.  Laughter,  so  we  learn,  is  not  the  merry-hearted, 
jovial  companion  we  had  thought  him.  ■ Laughter  is  a stern 
mentor,  characterized  by  “an  absence  of  feeling.”  “Laughter,” 
says  M.  Bergson,  “is  above  all  a corrective,  it  must  make  a pain- 
ful impression  on  the  person  against  whom  it  is  directed.  By 
laughter  society  avenges  itself  for  the  liberties  taken  with  it. 
It  would  fail  in  its  object  if  it  bore  the  stamp  of  sympathy  or 
kindness.”  If  this  be  laughter,  grant  us  occasionally  the  saving 
grace  of  tears,  which  may  be  tears  of  sympathy,  and,  therefore, 
kind ! 

But,  after  all,  since  it  is  true  that  “one  touch  of  humor 
makes  the  whole  world  grin,”  what  difference  does  it  make  what 
that  humor  is ; what  difference  why  or  wherefore  we  laugh,  since 
somehow  or  other,  in  a sorry  world,  we  do  laugh? 

Of  the  test  for  a sense  of  humor,  it  has  already  been  said 
that  it  is  the  ability  to  see  a joke.  And,  as  for  a joke,  the 
dictionary,  again  a present  help  in  time  of  trouble,  tells  us  at 
once  that  it  is,  “something  said  or  done  for  the  purpose  of 
exciting  a laugh.”  But  stay!  Suppose  it  does  not  excite  the 
laugh  expected?  What  of  the  joke  that  misses  fire?  Shall  a 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


IX 


joke  be  judged  by  its  intent  or  by  its  consequences?  Is  a joke 
that  does  not  produce  a laugh  a joke  at  all?  Pragmatically  con- 
sidered it  is  not.  Agnes  Repplier,  writing  on  Humor,  speaks  of 
“those  beloved  writers  whom  we  hold  to  be  humorists  because 
they  have  made  us  laugh.”  We  hold  them  to  be  so — but  there 
seems  to  be  a suggestion  that  we  may  be  wrong.  Is  it  possible 
that  the  laugh  is  not  the  test  of  the  joke?  Here  is  a question 
over  which  the  philosophers  may  wrangle.  Is  there  an  Absolute 
in  the  realm  of  humor,  or  must  our  jokes  be  judged  solely  by 
the  pragmatic  test?  Congreve  once  told  Colly  Cibber  that  there 
were  many  witty  speeches  in  one  of  Colly’s  plays,  and  many  that 
looked  witty,  yet  were  not  really  what  they  seemed  at  first  sight ! 
So  a joke  is  not  to  be  recognized  even  by  its  appearance  or  by 
the  company  it  keeps.  Perhaps  there  might  be  established  a test 
of  good  usage.  A joke  would  be  that  at  which  the  best  people 
laugh. 

Somebody — was  it  Mark  Twain? — once  said  that  there  are 
eleven  original  jokes  in  the  world — that  these  were  known  in 
prehistoric  times,  and  that  all  jokes  since  have  been  but  modi- 
fications and  adaptations  from  the  originals.  Miss  Repplier,  how- 
ever, gives  to  modern  times  the  credit  for  some  inventiveness. 
Christianity,  she  says,  must  be  thanked  for  such  contributions  as 
the  missionary  and  cannibal  joke,  and  for  the  interminable  vari- 
ations of  St.  Peter  at  the  gate.  Max  Beerbohm  once  codified  all 
the  English  comic  papers  and  found  that  the  following  list  com- 
prised all  the  subjects  discussed:  Mothers-in-law;  Hen-pecked 
husbands;  Twins;  Old  maids;  Jews;  Frenchmen  and  Germans; 
Italians  and  Niggers;  Fatness;  Thinness;  Long  hair  (in  men); 
Baldness;  Sea  sickness;  Stuttering;  Bloomers;  Bad  cheese;  Red 
noses.  A like  examination  of  American  newspapers  would  per- 
haps result  in  a slightly  different  list.  We  have,  of  course,  our 
purely  local  jokes.  Boston  will  always  be  a joke  to  Chicago, 
the  east  to  the  west.  The  city  girl  in  the  country  offers  a per- 
ennial source  of  amusement,  as  does  the  country  man  in  the 
city.  And  the  foreigner  we  have  always  with  us,  to  mix  his  Y’s 
and  J’s,  distort  his  H’s,  and  play  havoc  with  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Th.  Indeed  our  great  American  sense  of  humor  has  been 
explained  as  an  outgrowth  from  the  vast  field  of  incongruities 
offered  by  a developing  civilization. 


X 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


It  may  be  that  this  vaunted  national  sense  has  been  over- 
estimated— exaggeration  is  a characteristic  of  that  humor,  any- 
way— but  at  least  it  has  one  of  the  Christian  virtues — it  suffereth 
long  and  is  kind.  Miss  Repplier  says  that  it  is  because  we  are  a 
‘‘humorous  rather  than  a witty  people  that  we  laugh  for  the 
most  part  with,  and  not  at  our  fellow  creatures.,,  This,  I think, 
is  something  that  our  fellow  creatures  from  other  lands  do  not 
always  comprehend.  I listened  once  to  a distinguished  French- 
man as  he  addressed  the  students  in  a western  university  chapel. 
He  was  evidently  astounded  and  embarrassed  by  the  outbursts 
of  laughter  that  greeted  his  mildly  humorous  remarks.  He  even 
stopped  to  apologize  for  the  deficiencies  of  his  English,  deeming 
them  the  cause,  and  was  further  mystified  by  the  little  ripple  of 
laughter  that  met  his  explanation — a ripple  that  came  from  the 
hearts  of  the  good-natured  students,  who  meant  only  to  be 
appreciative  and  kind.  Foreigners,  too,  unacquainted  with  Amer- 
ican slang  often  find  themselves  precipitating  a laugh  for  which 
they  are  unprepared.  For  a bit  of  current  slang,  however  and 
whenever  used,  is  always  humorous. 

The  American  is  not  only  a humorous  person,  he  is  a prac- 
tical person.  So  it  is  only  natural  that  the  American  humor 
should  be  put  to  practical  uses.  It  was  once  said  that  the  differ- 
ence between  a man  with  tact  and  a man  without  was  that  the 
man  with  tact,  in  trying  to  put  a bit  in  a horse’s  mouth,  would 
first  tell  him  a funny  story,  while  the  man  without  tact  would 
get  an  axe.  This  use  of  the  funny  story  is  the  American  way 
of  adapting  it  to  practical  ends.  A collection  of  funny  stories 
used  to  be  an  important  part  of  a drummer’s  stock  in  trade. 
It  is  by  means  of  the  “good  story”  that  the  politician  makes 
his  way  into  office;  the  business  man  paves  the  way  for  a big 
deal;  the  after-dinner  speaker  gets  a hearing;  the  hostess  saves 
her  guests  from  boredom.  Such  a large  place  does  the  “story” 
hold  in  our  national  life  that  we  have  invented  a social  pastime 
that  might  be  termed  a “joke  match.”  “Don’t  tell  a funny  story, 
even  if  you  know  one,”  was  the  advice  of  the  Atchison  Globe 
man,  “its  narration  will  only  remind  your  hearers  of  a bad  one.” 
True  as  this  may  be,  we  still  persist  in  telling  our  funny  story. 
Our  hearers  are  reminded  of  another,  good  or  bad,  which  again 
reminds  us — and  so  on. 

A sense  of  humor,  as  was  intimated  before,  is  the  chiefest 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


xi 


of  the  virtues.  It  is  more  than  this — it  is  one  of  the  essentials 
to  success.  For,  as  has  also  been  pointed  out,  we,  being  a prac- 
tical people,  put  our  humor  to  practical  uses.  It  is  held  up  as 
one  of  the  prerequisites  for  entrance  to  any  profession.-  “A 
lawyer,”  says  a member  of  that  order,  must  have  such  and  such 
mental  and  moral  qualities;  “but  before  all  else” — and  this  im- 
pressively— “he  must  possess  a sense  of  humor.”  Samuel 
McChord  Crothers  says  that  were  he  on  the  examining  board  for 
the  granting  of  certificates  to  prospective  teachers,  he  would 
place  a copy  of  Lamb’s  essay  on  Schoolmasters  in  the  hands  of 
each,  and  if  the  light  of  humorous  appreciation  failed  to  dawn 
as  the  reading  progressed,  the  certificate  would  be  withheld. 
For,  before  all  else,  a teacher  must  possess  a sense  of  humor! 
If  it  be  true,  then,  that  the  sense  of  humor  is  so  important  in 
determining  the  choice  of  a profession,  how  wise  are  those 
writers  who  hold  it  an  essential  for  entrance  into  that  most  ex- 
acting of  professions — matrimony!  “Incompatibility  in  humor,” 
George  Eliot  held  to  be  the  “most  serious  cause  of  diversion.” 
And  Stevenson,  always  wise,  insists  that  husband  and  wife  must 
be  able  to  laugh  over  the  same  jokes — have  between  them  many 
a “grouse  in  the  gun-room”  story.  But  there  must  always  be 
exceptions  if  the  spice  of  life  is  to  be  preserved,  and  I recall  one 
couple  of  my  acquaintance,  devoted  and  loyal  in  spite  of  this  very 
incompatibility.  A man  with  a highly  whimsical  sense  of  humor 
had  married  a woman  with  none.  Yet  he  told  his  best  stories 
with  an  eye  to  their  effect  on  her,  and  when  her  response  came, 
peaceful  and  placid  and  non-comprehending,  he  would  look  about 
the  table  with  delight,  as  much  as  to  say,  “Isn’t  she  a wonder? 
Do  you  know  her  equal?” 

Humor  may  be  the  greatest  of  the  virtues,  yet  it  is  the  one 
of  whose  possession  we  may  boast  with  impunity.  “Well,  that 
was  too  much  for  my  sense  of  humor,”  we  say.  Or,  “You  know 
my  sense  of  humor  was  always  my  strong  point.”  Imagine  thus 
boasting  of  one’s  integrity,  or  sense  of  honor ! And  so  is  its 
lack  the  one  vice  of  which  one  may  not  permit  himself  to  be 
a trifle  proud.  “I  admit  that  I have  a hot  temper,”  and  “I  know 
I’m  extravagant,”  are  simple  enough  admissions.  But  did  any 
one  ever  openly  make  the  confession,  “I  know  I am  lacking  in 
a sense  of  humor!”  However,  to  recognize  the  lack  one  would 
first  have  to  possess  the  sense — which  is  manifestly  impossible. 


Xll 


SENSE  OF  HUMOR 


“To  explain  the  nature  of  laughter  and  tears  is  to  account 
for  the  condition  of  human  life,”  says  Hazlitt,  and  no  philosophy 
has  as  yet  succeeded  in  accounting  for  the  condition  of  human 
life.  “Man  is  a laughing  animal,”  wrote  Meredith,  “and  at  the 
end  of  infinite  search  the  philosopher  finds  himself  clinging  to 
laughter  as  the  best  of  human  fruit,  purely  human,  and  sane,  and 
comforting.”  So  whether  it  be  the  corrective  laughter  of 
Bergson,  Jove  laughing  at  lovers’  vows,  Love  laughing  at  lock- 
smiths, or  the  cheerful  laughter  of  the  fool  that  was  like  the 
crackling  of  thorns  to  Koheleth,  the  preacher,  we  recognize  that 
it  is  good;  that  without  this  saving  grace  of  humor  life  would 
be  an  empty  vaunt.  I like  to  recall  that  ancient  usage : “The  skie 
hangs  full  of  humour,  and  I think  we  shall  haue  raine.”  Blessed 
humor,  no  less  refreshing  today  than  was  the  humour  of  old  to 
a parched  and  thirsty  earth. 


TOASTERS,  TOASTMASTERS 
AND  TOASTS 


Before  making  any  specific  suggestions  to  the  prospective 
toaster  or  toastmaster,  let  us  advise  that  he  consider  well  the 
nature  and  spirit  of  the  occasion  which  calls  for  speeches.  The 
toast,  after-dinner  talk,  or  address  is  always  given  under  con- 
ditions that  require  abounding  good  humor,  and  the  desire  to 
make  everybody  pleased  and  comfortable  as  well  as  to  furnish 
entertainment  should  be  uppermost. 

Perhaps  a consideration  of  the  ancient  custom  that  gave  rise 
to  the  modern  toast  will  help  us  to  understand  the  spirit  in  which 
a toast  should  be  given.  It  originated  with  the  pagan  custom 
of  drinking  to  gods  and  the  dead,  which  in  Christian  nations 
was  modified,  with  the  accompanying  idea  of  a wish  for  health 
and  happiness  added.  In  England  during  the  sixteenth  century 
it  was  customary  to  put  a “toast”  in  the  drink,  which  was  usually 
served  hot.  This  toast  was  the  ordinary  piece  of  bread  scorched 
on  both  sides.  Shakespeare  in  “The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor” 
has  Falstaff  say,  “Fetch  me  a quart  of  sack  and  put  a toast  in ’t.” 
Later  the  term  came  to  be  applied  to  the  lady  in  whose  honor 
the  company  drank,  her  name  serving  to  flavor  the  bumper  as  the 
toast  flavored  the  drink.  It  was  in  this  way  that  the  act  of 
drinking  or  of  proposing  a health,  or  the  mere  act  of  expressing 
good  wishes  or  fellowship  at  table  came  to  be  known  as  toasting. 

Since  an  occasion,  then,  at  which  toasts  are  in  order  is  one 
intended  to  promote  good  feeling,  it  should  afford  no  opportunity 
for  the  exploitation  of  any  personal  or  selfish  interest  or  for 
anything  controversial,  or  antagonistic  to  any  of  the  company 
present.  The  effort  of  the  toastmaster  should  be  to  promote 
the  best  of  feeling  among  all  and  especially  between  speakers. 
And  speakers  should  cooperate  with  the  toastmaster  and  with 
each  other  to  that  end.  The  introductions  of  the  toastmaster 


XIV 


TOASTERS  AND  TOASTS 


may,  of  course,  contain  some  good-natured  bantering,  together 
with  compliment,  but  always  without  sting.  Those  taking  part 
may  “get  back”  at  the  toastmaster,  but  always  in  a manner  to 
leave  no  hard  feeling  anywhere.  The  toastmaster  should  strive 
to  make  his  speakers  feel  at  ease,  to  give  them  good  standing 
with  their  hearers  without  overpraising  them  and  making  it  hard 
to  live  up  to  what  is  expected  of  them.  In  short,  let  everybody 
boost  good  naturedly  for  everybody  else. 

The  toastmaster,  and  for  that  matter  everyone  taking  part, 
should  be  carefully  prepared.  It  may  be  safely  said  that  those 
who  are  successful  after-dinner  speakers  have  learned  the  need 
of  careful  forethought.  A practised  speaker  may  appear  to  speak 
extemporaneously  by  putting  together  on  one  occasion  thoughts 
and  expressions  previously  prepared  for  other  occasions,  but  the 
neophyte  may  well  consider  it  necessary  to  think  out  carefully 
the  matter  of  what  to  say  and  how  to  say  it.  Cicero  said  of 
Antonius,  “All  his  speeches  were,  in  appearance,  the  unpremedi- 
tated effusion  of  an  honest  heart;  and  yet,  in  reality,  they  were 
preconceived  with  so  much  skill  that  the  judges  were  not  so 
well  prepared  as  they  should  have  been  to  withstand  the  force  of 
them !” 

After  considering  the  nature  of  the  occasion  and  getting 
himself  in  harmony  with  it,  the  speaker  should  next  consider 
the  relation  of  his  particular  subject  to  the  occasion  and  to  the 
subjects  of  the  other  speakers.  He  should  be  careful  to  hold 
closely  to  the  subject  allotted  to  him  so  that  he  will  not  encroach 
upon  the  ground  of  other  speakers.  He  should  be  careful,  too, 
not  to  appropriate  to  himself  any  of  their  time.  And  he  should 
consider,  without  vanity  and  without  humility,  his  own  relative 
importance  and  govern  himself  accordingly.  We  have  all  had 
the  painful  experience  of  waiting  in  impatience  for  the  speech  of 
the  evening  to  begin  while  some  humble  citizen  made  “a  few 
introductory  remarks.” 

In  planning  his  speech  and  in  getting  it  into  finished  form, 
the  toaster  will  do  well  to  remember  those  three  essentials  to  all 
good  composition  with  which  he  struggled  in  school  and  college 
days,  Unity,  Mass  and  Coherence.  The  first  means  that  his 
talk  must  have  a central  thought,  on  which  all  his  stories,  anec- 
dotes and  jokes  will  have  a bearing;  the  second  that  there  will 
be  a proper  balance  between  the  parts,  that  it  will  not  be  all 


TOASTERS  AND  TOASTS 


xv 


introduction  and  conclusion ; the  third,  that  it  will  hang  together, 
without  awkward  transitions.  A toast  may  consist,  as  Lowell 
said,  of  “a  platitude,  a quotation  and  an  anecdote,”  but  the 
toaster  must  exercise  his  ingenuity  in  putting  these  together. 

In  delivering  the  toast,  the  speaker  must  of  course  be  natural. 
The  after-dinner  speech  calls  for  a conversational  tone,  not  for 
oratory  of  voice  or  manner.  Something  of  an  air  of  detachment 
on  the  part  of  the  speaker  is  advisable.  The  humorist  who  can 
tell  a story  with  a straight  face  adds  to  the  humorous  effect. 

A word  might  be  said  to  those  who  plan  the  program.  In 
the  number  of  speakers  it  is  better  to  err  in  having  too  few  than 
too  many.  Especially  is  this  true  if  there  is  one  distinguished 
person  who  is  the  speaker  of  the  occasion.  In  such  a case  the 
number  of  lesser  lights  may  well  be  limited  to  two  or  three. 
The  placing  of  the  guest  of  honor  on  the  program  is  a matter  of 
importance.  Logically  he  would  be  expected  to  come  last,  as 
the  crowning  feature.  But  if  the  occasion  is  a large  semi-public 
affair — a political  gathering,  for  example — where  strict  etiquet 
does  not  require  that  all  remain  thru  the  entire  program,  there 
will  always  be  those  who  will  leave  early,  thus  missing  the  best 
part  of  the  entertainment.  In  this  case  some  shifting  of  speak- 
ers, even  at  the  risk  of  an  anti-climax,  would  be  advisable.  On 
ordinary  occasions,  where  the  speakers  are  of  much  the  same 
rank,  order  will  be  determined  mainly  by  subject.  And  if  the 
topics  for  discussion  are  directly  related,  if  they  are  all  com- 
ponent parts  of  a general  subject,  so  much  the  better. 

Now  we  are  going  to  add  a special  paragraph  for  the  abso- 
lutely inexperienced  person — who  has  never  given,  or  heard 
anyone  else  give,  a toast.  It  would  seem  hardly  possible  in  this 
day  of  banquets  to  find  an  individual  who  has  missed  these  occa- 
sions entirely — but  he  is  to  be  found.  Especially  is  this  true  in 
a world  where  toasting  and  after-dinner  speaking  are  coming  to 
be  more  and  more  in  demand  at  social  functions — the  college 
world.  Here  the  young  man  or  woman,  coming  from  a country 
town  where  the  formal  banquet  is  unknown,  who  has  never 
heard  an  after-dinner  speech,  may  be  confronted  with  the  neces- 
sity of  responding  to  a toast  on,  say  “Needles  and  Pins.”  Such 
a one  would  like  to  be  told  first  of  all  what  an  after-dinner 
speech  is.  It  is  only  a short,  informal  talk,  usually  witty,  at  any 
rate  kindly,  with  one  central  idea  and  a certain  amount  of  illus- 


XVI 


TOASTERS  AND  TOASTS 


trative  material  in  the  way  of  anecdotes,  quotations  and  stories. 
The  best  advice  to  such  a speaker  is : Make  your  first  effort 
simple.  Don’t  be  over  ambitious.  If,  as  was  suggested  in  the 
example  cited  a moment  ago,  the  subject  is  fanciful — as  it  is 
very  apt  to  be  at  a college  banquet — any  interpretation  you 
choose  to  put  upon  it  is  allowable.  If  the  interpretation  is 
ingenious,  your  case  is  already  half  won.  Such  a subject  is  in 
effect  a challenge.  ‘‘Now,  let’s  see  what  you  can  make  of  this,” 
is  what  it  implies.  First  get  an  idea;  then  find  something  in  the 
way  of  illustrative  material.  Speak  simply  and  naturally  and  sit 
down  and  watch  how  the  others  do  it.  Of  course  the  subject  on 
such  occasions  is  often  of  a more  serious  nature — Our  Class; 
The  Team;  Our  President — in  which  case  a more  serious  treat- 
ment is  called  for,  with  a touch  of  honest  pride  and  sentiment. 

To  sum  up  what  has  been  said,  with  borrowings  from  what 
others  have  said  on  the  subject,  the  following  general  rules  have 
been  formulated: 

Prepare  carefully.  Self-confidence  is  a valuable  possession, 
but  beware  of  being  too  sure  of  yourself.  Pride  goes  before  a 
fall,  and  overconfidence  in  his  ability  to  improvise  has  been  the 
downfall  of  many  a would-be  speaker.  The  speaker  should 
strive  to  give  the  effect  of  spontaneity,  but  this  can  be  done 
only  with  practice.  The  toast  calls  for  the  art  that  conceals  art. 

Let  your  speech  have  unity.  As  some  one  has  pointed  out, 
the  after-dinner  speech  is  a distinct  form  of  expression,  just 
as  is  the  short  story.  As  such  it  should  give  a unity  of  impres- 
sion. It  bears  something  of  the  same  relation  to  the  oration  that 
the  short  story  does  to  the  novel. 

Let  it  have  continuity.  James  Bryce  says:  “There  is  a 

tendency  today  to  make  after-dinner  speaking  a mere  string  of 
anecdotes,  most  of  which  may  have  little  to  do  with  the  subject 
or  with  one  another.  Even  the  best  stories  lose  their  charm 
when  they  are  dragged  in  by  the  head  and  shoulders,  having 
no  connection  with  the  allotted  theme.  Relevance  as  well  as 
brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit.” 

Do  not  grow  emotional  or  sentimental.  American  traditions 
are  largely  borrowed  from  England.  We  have  the  Anglo-Saxon 
reticence.  A parade  of  emotion  in  public  embarrasses  us.  A 
simple  and  sincere  expression  of  feeling  is  often  desirable  in  a 
toast — but  don’t  overdo  it. 


TOASTERS  AND  TOASTS 


XVII 


Avoid  trite  sayings.  Don’t  use  quotations  that  are  shop- 
worn, and  avoid  the  set  forms  for  toasts — “Our  sweethearts  and 
wives — may  they  never  meet,”  etc. 

Don't  apologize.  Don’t  say  that  you  are  not  prepared;  that 
you  speak  on  very  short  notice;  that  you  are  “no  orator  as 
Brutus  is.”  Resolve  to  do  your  best  and  let  your  effort  speak 
for  itself. 

Avoid  irony  and  satire.  It  has  already  been  said  that  occa- 
sions on  which  toasts  are  given  call  for  friendliness  and  good 
humor.  Yet  the  temptation  to  use  irony  and  satire  may  be 
strong.  Especially  may  this  be  true  at  political  gatherings  where 
there  is  a chance  to  grow  witty  at  the  expense  of  rivals.  Irony 
and  satire  are  keen-edged  tools;  they  have  their  uses;  but  they 
are  dangerous.  Pope,  who  knew  how  to  use  them,  said: 

Satire  ’s  my  weapon,  but  I’m  too  discreet 
To  run  amuck  and  tilt  at  all  I meet. 

Use  personal  references  sparingly.  A certain  amount  of 
good-natured  chaffing  may  be  indulged  in.  Yet  there  may  be 
danger  in  even  the  most  kindly  of  fun.  One  never  knows  how  a 
jest  will  be  taken.  Once  in  the  early  part  of  his  career,  Mark 
Twain,  at  a New  England  banquet,  grew  funny  at  the  expense 
of  Longfellow  and  Emerson,  then  in  their  old  age  and  looked 
upon  almost  as  divinities.  His  joke  fell  dead,  and  to  the  end 
of  his  life  he  suffered  humiliation  at  the  recollection. 

Be  clear.  While  you  must  not  draw  an  obvious  moral  or 
explain  the  point  to  your  jokes,  be  sure  that  the  point  is  there 
and  that  it  is  put  in  such  a way  that  your  hearers  cannot  miss  it. 
Avoid  flights  of  rhetoric  and  do  not  lose  your  anecdotes  in  a sea 
of  words. 

Avoid  didacticism.  Do  not  try  to  instruct.  Do  not  give 
statistics  and  figures.  They  will  not  be  remembered.  A his- 
torical resume  of  your  subject  from  the  beginning  of  time  is 
not  called  for;  neither  are  well-known  facts  about  the  greatness 
of  your  city  or  state  or  the  prominent  person  in  whose  honor 
_ you  may  be  speaking.  Do  not  tell  your  hearers  things  they 
already  know. 

Be  brief.  An  after-dinner  audience  is  in  a particularly  de- 
fenceless position.  It  is  so  out  in  the  open.  There  is  no  oppor- 
tunity for  a quiet  nod  or  two  behind  a newspaper  or  the  hat  of 
the  lady  in  front.  If  you  bore  your  hearers  by  overstepping  your 


xviii  TOASTERS  AND  TOASTS 

time  politeness  requires  that  they  sit  still  and  look  pleased. 
Spare  them.  Remember  Bacon’s  advice  to  the  speaker:  “Let 
him  be  sure  to  leave  other  men  their  turns  to  speak.”  But 
suppose  you  come  late  on  the  program ! Suppose  the  other 
speakers  have  not  heeded  Bacon?  What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?  Here  is  a story  that  James  Bryce  tells  of  the  most 
successful  after-dinner  speech  he  remembers  to  have  heard. 
The  speaker  was  a famous  engineer,  the  occasion  a dinner  of 
the  British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science.  “He 
came  last;  and  midnight  had  arrived.  His  toast  was  Applied 
Science,  and  his  speech  was  as  follows:  ‘Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
at  this  late  hour  I advise  you  to  illustrate  the  Applications  of 
Science  by  applying  a lucifer  match  to  the  wick  of  your  bedroom 
candle.  Let  us  all  go  to  bed’.” 

If  you  are  capable  of  making  a similar  sacrifice  by  cutting 
short  your  own  carefully-prepared,  wise,  witty  and  sparkling 
remarks,  your  audience  will  thank  you — and  they  may  ask  you 
to  speak  again. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


ABILITY 

“Pa,”  said  little  Joe,  “I  bet  I can  do  something  you  can’t.” 
“Well,  what  is  it?”  demanded  his  pa. 

“Grow,”  replied  the  youngster  triumphantly. — H.  E.  Zimmer- 
man. 


ABOLITION 

He  was  a New  Yorker  visiting  in  a South  Carolina  village 
and  he  sauntered  up  to  a native  sitting  in  front  of  the  general 
store,  and  began  a conversation. 

“Have  you  heard  about  the  new  manner  in  which  the  planters 
are  going  to  pick  their  cotton  this  season?”  he  inquired. 

“Don’t  believe  I have,”  answered  the  other. 

“Well,  they  have  decided  to  import  a lot  of  monkeys  to  do 
the  picking,”  rejoined  the  New  Yorker.  “Monkeys  learn  read- 
ily. They  are  thorough  workers,  and  obviously  they  will  save 
their  employers  a small  fortune  otherwise  expended  in  wages.” 

“Yes,”  ejaculated  the  native,  “and  about  the  time  this  monkey 
brigade  is  beginning  to  work  smoothly,  a lot  of  you  fool  north- 
erners will  come  tearing  down  here  and  set  ’em  free.” 

ABSENT-MINDEDNESS 

She — “I  consider,  John,  that  sheep  are  the  stupidest  creatures 
living.” 

He  (absent-mindedly)—" Yes,  my  lamb.” 

ACCIDENTS 

The  late  Dr.  Henry  Thayer,  founder  of  Thayer’s  Laboratory 
in  Cambridge,  was  walking  along  a street  one  winter  morn- 
ing. The  sidewalk  was  sheeted  with  ice  and  the  doctor  was 
making  his  way  carefully,  as  was  also  a woman  going  in  the 
opposite  direction.  In  seeking  to  avoid  each  other,  both  slipped 


2 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


and  they  came  down  in  a heap.  The  polite  doctor  was  over- 
whelmed and  his  embarrassment  paralyzed  his  speech,  but  the 
woman  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

“Doctor,  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  rise  and  pick  out  your 
legs,  I will  take  what  remains,”  she  said  cheerfully. 

“Help!  Help!”  cried  an  Italian  laborer  near  the  mud  flats 
of  the  Harlem  river. 

“What’s  the  matter  there?”  came  a voice  from  the  construc- 
tion shanty. 

“Queek ! Bringa  da  shov’ ! Bringa  da  peek ! Giovanni's  stuck 
in  da  mud.” 

“How  far  in?” 

“Up  to  hees  knees.” 

“Oh,  let  him  walk  out.” 

“No,  no!  He  no  canna  walk!  He  wronga  end  up!” 

There  once  was  a lady  from  Guam, 

Who  said,  “Now  the  sea  is  so  calm 
I will  swim,  for  a lark”; 

But  she  met  with  a shark. 

Let  us  now  sing  the  ninetieth  psalm. 

Bricklayer  (to  mate,  who  had  just  had  a hodful  of  bricks 
fall  on  his  feet) — “Dropt  ’em  on  yer  toe!  That's  nothin'.  Why, 
I seen  a bloke  get  killed  stone  dead,  an’  'e  never  made  such 
a bloomin’  fuss  as  you're  doin’.” 

A preacher  had  ordered  a load  of  hay  from  one  of  his  par- 
ishioners. About  noon,  the  parishioner’s  little  son  came  to  the 
house  crying  lustily.  On  being  asked  what  the  matter  was,  he 
said  that  the  load  of  hay  had  tipped  over  in  the  street.  The 
preacher,  a kindly  man,  assured  the  little  fellow  that  it  was. 
nothing  serious,  and  asked  him  in  to  dinner. 

“Pa  wouldn’t  like  it,”  said  the  boy. 

But  the  preacher  assured  him  that  he  would  fix  it  all  right 
with  his  father,  and  urged  him  to  take  dinner  before  going 
for  the  hay.  After  dinner  the  boy  was  asked  if  he  were  not 
glad  that  he  had  stayed. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


3 


“Pa  won’t  like  it,”  he  persisted. 

The  preacher,  unable  to  understand,  asked  the  boy  what 
made  him  think  his  father  would  object. 

“Why,  you  see,  pa’s  under  the  hay,”  explained  the  boy. 


There  was  an  old  Miss  from  Antrim, 

Who  looked  for  the  leak  with  a glim. 

Alack  and  alas ! 

The  cause  was  the  gas. 

We  will  now  sing  the  fifty-fourth  hymn. 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 

There  was  a young  lady  named  Hannah, 

Who  slipped  on  a peel  of  banana. 

More  stars  she  espied 
As  she  lay  on  her  side 

Than  are  found  in  the  Star  Spangled  Banner. 

A gentleman  sprang  to  assist  her; 

He  picked  up  her  glove  and  her  wrister; 

“Did  you  fall,  Ma’am?”  he  cried; 

“Did  you  think,”  she  replied, 

“I  sat  down  for  the  fun  of  it,  Mister?” 

At  first  laying  down,  as  a fact  fundamental, 

That  nothing  with  God  can  be  accidental. 

— Longfellow. 


ACTING 

Hopkinson  Smith  tells  a characteristic  story  of  a southern 
friend  of  his,  an  actor,  who,  by  the  way,  was  in  the  dramatiza- 
tion of  Colonel  Carter.  On  one  occasion  the  actor  was  ap- 
pearing in  his  native  town,  and  remembered  an  old  negro  and 
his  wife,  who  had  been  body  servants  in  his  father’s  house- 
hold, with  a couple  of  seats  in  the  theatre.  As  it  happened, 
he  was  playing  the  part  of  the  villain,  and  was  largely  con- 
cerned with  treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils.  From  time  to 
time  he  caught  a glimpse  of  the  ancient  couple  in  the  gal- 


4 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


lery,  and  judged  from  their  fearsome  countenance  and  pop- 
ping eyes  that  they  were  being  duly  impressed. 

After  the  play  he  asked  them  to  come  and  see  him  be- 
hind the  scenes.  They  sat  together  for  a while  in  solemn 
silence,  and  then  the  mammy  resolutely  nudged  her  husband. 
The  old  man  gathered  himself  together  with  an  effort,  and 
said : “Marse  Cha’les,  mebbe  it  ain’  for  us  po’  niggers  to  teach 
ouh  young  masser  ’portment.  But  we  jes’  got  to  tell  yo’  dat,  in 
all  de  time  we  b’long  to  de  fambly,,  none  o’  ouh  folks  ain* 
neveh  befo’  mix  up  in  sechlike  dealin’s,  an’  we  hope,  Marse 
Cha’les,  dat  yo’  see  de  erroh  of  yo’  ways  befo’  yo 1 done  sho’  nuff 
disgrace  us.” 

In  a North  of  England  town  recently  a company  of  local 
amateurs  produced  Hamlet , and  the  following  account  of  the 
proceedings  appeared  in  the  local  paper  next  morning: 

“Last  night  all  the  fashionables  and  elite  of  our  town  gath- 
ered to  witness  a performance  of  Hamlet  at  the  Town  Hall. 
There  has  been  considerable  discussion  in  the  press  as  to 
whether  the  play  was  written  by  Shakespeare  or  Bacon.  All 
doubt  can  be  now  set  at  rest.  Let  their  graves  be  opened;  the 
one  who  turned  over  last  night  is  the  author.” 

Suit  the  action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the  action,  with 
this  special  observance,  that  you  o’erstep  not  the  modesty  of 
nature. — Shakespeare. 

To  wake  the  soul  by  tender  strokes  of  art, 

To  raise  the  genius,  and  to  mend  the  heart; 

To  make  mankind,  in  conscious  virtue  bold, 

Live  o’er  each  scene,  and  be  what  they  behold — 

For  this  the  tragic  muse  first  trod  the  stage. 

— Pope. 

ACTORS  AND  ACTRESSES 

An  “Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin”  company  was  starting  to  parade 
in  a small  New  England  town  when  a big  gander,  from  a 
farmyard  near  at  hand  waddled  to  the  middle  of  the  street 
and  began  to  hiss. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


One  of  the  double-in-brass  actors  turned  toward  the  fowl 
and  angrily  exclaimed: 

“Don’t  be  so  dern  quick  to  jump  at  conclusions.  Wait  till 
you  see  the  show.” — K.  A.  Bisbee. 

When  William  H.  Crane  was  younger  and  less  discreet  he 
had  a vaunting  ambition  to  play  Hamlet.  So  with  his  first 
profits  he  organized  his  own  company  and  he  went  to  an  in- 
land western  town  to  give  vent  to  his  ambition  and  “try  it 
on.” 

When  he  came  back  to  New  York  a group  of  friends  noticed 
that  the  actor  appeared  to  be  much  downcast. 

“What’s  the  matter,  Crane?  Didn’t  they  appreciate  it?” 
asked  one  of  his  friends. 

“They  didn’t  seem  to,”  laconically  answered  the  actor. 

“Well,  didn’t  they  give  any  encouragement?  Didn’t  they 
ask  you  to  come  before  the  curtain?”  persisted  the  friend. 

“Ask  me?”  answered  Crane.  “Man,  they  dared  me!” 

Leading  Man  in  Traveling  Company — “We  play  Hamlet 
to-night,  laddie,  do  we  not?” 

Sub-Manager — “Yes,  Mr.  Montgomery.” 

Leading  Man — “Then  I must  borrow  the  sum  of  two-pence !” 

Sub-Manager — “Why  ?” 

Leading  Man — “I  have  four  days’  growth  upon  my  chin. 
One  cannot  play  Hamlet  in  a beard !” 

Sub-Manager — “Um — well — we’ll  put  on  Macbeth !” 

He — “But  what  reason  have  you  for  refusing  to  marry  me?” 

She — “Papa  objects.  He  says  you  are  an  actor.” 

He — “Give  my  regards  to  the  old  boy  and  tell  him  I’m  sorry 
he  isn’t  a newspaper  critic.” 

The  hero  of  the  play,  after  putting  up  a stiff  fight  with  the 
villain,  had  died  to  slow  music. 

The  audience  insisted  on  his  coming  before  the  curtain. 

He  refused  to  appear. 

But  the  audience  still  insisted.” 

Then  the  manager,  a gentleman  with  a strong  accent,  came 
to  the  front. 


6 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Ladies  an’  gintlemen,”  he  said,  “the  carpse  thanks  ye  kind- 
13’,  but  he  says  he’s  dead,  an*  he’s  goin’  to  stay  dead.” 

Mrs.  Minnie  Maddern  Fiske,  the  actress,  was  having  her  hair 
dressed  by  a young  woman  at  her  home.  The  actress  was 
very  tired  and  quiet,  but  a chance  remark  from  the  dresser 
made  her  open  her  eyes  and  sit  up. 

“I  should  have  went  on  the  stage,”  said  the  young  woman 
complacently. 

“But,”  returned  Mrs.  Fiske,  “look  at  me — think  how  I have 
had  to  work  and  study  to  gain  what  success  I have,  and  win 
such  fame  as  is  now  mine!” 

“Oh,  yes,”  replied  the  young  woman  calmly;  “but  then  I 
have  talent.” 


Orlando  Day,  a fourth-rate  actor  in  London,  was  once  called, 
in  a sudden  emergency,  to  supply  the  place  of  Allen  Ainsworth 
at  the  Criterion  Theatre  for  a single  night. 

The  call  filled  him  with  joy.  Here  was  a chance  to  show 
the  public  how  great  a histrionic  genius  had  remained  unknown 
for  lack  of  an  opportunity.  But  his  joy  was  suddenly  damp- 
ened by  the  dreadful  thought  that,  as  the  play  was  already  in 
the  midst  of  its  run,  none  of  the  dramatic  critics  might  be 
there  to  watch  his  triumph. 

A bright  thought  struck  him.  He  would  announce  the 
event.  Rushing  to  a telegraph  office,  he  sent  to  one  of  the 
leading  critics  the  following  telegram : “Orlando  Day  presents 
Allen  Ainsworth’s  part  to-night  at  the  Criterion.” 

Then  it  occurred  to  him,  “Why  not  tell  them  all?”  So 
he  repeated  the  message  to  a dozen  or  more  important  persons. 

At  a late  hour  of  the  same  day,  in  the  Garrick  Club,  a 
lounging  gentleman  produced  one  of  the  telegrams,  and  read 
it  to  a group  of  friends.  A chorus  of  exclamations  followed 
the  reading:  “Why,  I got  precisely  the  same  message!”  “And 
so  did  I.”  “And  I,  too.”  “Who  is  Orlando  Day?  “What 
beastly  cheek!”  “Did  the  ass  fancy  that  one  would  pay  any 
attention  to  his  wire?” 

J.  M.  Barrie,  the  famous  author  and  playwright,  who  was 
present,  was  the  only  one  who  said  nothing. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


7 


“Didn’t  he  wire  you  too?”  asked  one  of  the  group. 

“Oh,  yes.” 

“But  of  course  you  didn’t  answer.” 

“Oh,  but  it  was  only  polite  to  send  an  answer  after  he  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  wire  me.  So,  of  course,  I answered 
him.” 

“You  did!  What  did  you  say?” 

“Oh,  I just  telegraphed  him:  ‘Thanks  for  timely  warning.’” 


Twinkle,  twinkle,  lovely  star! 

How  I wonder  if  you  are 
When  at  home  the  tender  age 
You  appear  when  on  the  stage. 

— Mary  A.  Fairchild. 

Recipe  for  an  actor: 

To  one  slice  of  ham  add  assortment  of  roles. 

Steep  the  head  in  mash  notes  till  it  swells, 
Garnish  with  onions,  tomatoes  and  beets, 

Or  with  eggs — from  afar — in  the  shells. 

—Life. 

Recipe  for  an  ingenue: 

A pound  and  three-quarters  of  kitten, 

Three  ounces  of  flounces  and  sighs; 

Add  wiggles  and  giggles  and  gurgles, 

And  ringlets  and  dimples  and  eyes. 

—Life 


ADAPTATION 

“I  know  a nature-faker,”  said  Mr.  Bache,  the  author,  “who 
claims  that  a hen  of  his  last  month  hatched,  from  a setting 
of  seventeen  eggs,  seventeen  chicks  that  had,  in  lieu  of  feathers, 
fur 

“He  claimed  that  these  fur-coated  chicks  were  a proof  of 
nature’s  adaptation  of  all  animals  to  their  environment,  the  sev- 
enteen eggs  having  been  of  the  cold-storage  variety.” 


8 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ADDRESSES 

In  a large  store  a child,  pointing  to  a shopper  exclaimed, 
“Oh,  mother,  that  lady  lives  the  same  place  we  do.  I just 
heard  her  say,  ‘Send  it  up  C.  O.  D.’  Isn’t  that  where  we 
live?” 


An  Englishman  went  into  his  local  library  and  asked  for 
Frederic  Harrison’s  George  Washington  and  other  American 
Addresses.  In  a little  while  he  brought  back  the  book  to  the 
librarian  and  said: 

“This  book  does  not  give  me  what  I require;  I want  to  find 
out  the  addresses  of  several  American  magnates;  I know  where 
George  Washington  has  gone  to,  for  he  never  told  a lie.” 

ADVERTISING 

Not  long  ago  a patron  of  a cafe  in  Chicago  summoned  his 
waiter  and  delivered  himself  as  follows : 

“I  want  to  know  the  meaning  of  this.  Look  at  this  piece 
of  beef.  See  its  size.  Last  evening  I was  served  with  a por- 
tion more  than  twice  the  size  of  this.” 

“Where  did  you  sit?”  asked  the  waiter. 

“What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  I believe  I sat  by  the  win- 
dow.” 

“In  that  case,”  smiled  the  waiter,  “the  explanation  is  sim- 
ple. We  always  serve  customers  by  the  window  large  portions. 
It’s  a good  advertisement  for  the  place.” 

“Advertising  costs  me  a lot  of  money.” 

“Why  I never  saw  your  goods  advertised.” 

“They  aren’t.  But  my  wife  reads  other  people’s  ads.” 

When  Mark  Twain,  in  his  early  days,  was  editor  of  a Mis- 
souri paper,  a superstitious  subscriber  wrote  to  him  saying  that 
he  had  found  a spider  in  his  paper,  and  asking  him  whether 
that  was  a sign  of  good  luck  or  bad.  The  humorist  wrote  him 
this  answer  and  printed  it: 

“Old  subscriber:  Finding  a spider  in  your  paper  was  neither 
good  luck  nor  bad  luck  for  you.  The  spider  was  merely 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


9 


looking  over  our  paper  to  see  which  merchant  is  not  ad- 
vertising, so  that  he  can  go  to  that  store,  spin  his  web  across 
the  door  and  lead  a life  of  undisturbed  peace  ever  afterward.” 

‘‘Good  Heavens,  man  ),  I saw  your  obituary  in  this  morn- 
ing’s paper!” 

“Yes,  I know.  I put  it  n myself.  My  opera  is  to  be  pro- 
duced to-night,  and  I want  good  notices  from  the  critics.” 

— C.  Hilton  Turvey. 

Paderewski  arrived  in  a small  western  town  about  noon  one 
day  and  decided  to  take  a walk  in  the  afternoon.  While  strol- 
ling along  he  heard  a piano,  and,  following  the  sound,  came 
to  a house  on  which  was  a sign  reading: 

“Miss  Jones.  Piano  lessons  25  cents  an  hour.” 

Pausing  to  listen  he  heard  the  young  woman  trying  to  play 
one  of  Chopin’s  nocturnes,  and  not  succeeding  very  well. 

Paderewski  walked  up  to  the  house  and  knocked.  Miss 
Jones  came  to  the  door  and  recognized  him  at  once.  Delighted, 
she  invited  him  in  and  he  sat  down  and  played  the  nocturne 
as  only  Paderewski  can,  afterward  spending  an  hour  in  cor- 
recting her  mistakes.  Miss  Jones  thanked  him  and  he  de- 
parted. 

Some  months  afterward  he  returned  to  the  town,  and  again 
took  the  same  walk. 

He  soon  came  to  the  home  of  Miss  Jones,  and,  looking  at 
the  sign,  he  read : 

“Miss  Jones.  Piano  lessons  $1.00  an  hour.  (Pupil  of  Pader- 
ewski.)” 

Shortly  after  Raymond  Hitchcock  made  his  first  big  hit 
in  New  York,  Eddie  Foy,  who  was  also  playing  in  town,  hap- 
pened to  be  passing  Daly’s  Theatre,  and  paused  to  look  at 
the  pictures  of  Hitchcock  and  his  company  that  adorned  the 
entrance.  Near  the  pictures  was  a billboard  covered  with  laud- 
atory extracts  from  newspaper  criticisms  of  the  show. 

When  Foy  had  moodily  read  to  the  bottom  of  the  list,  he 
turned  to  an  unobtrusive  young  man  who  had  been  watching 
him  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

“Say,  have  you  seen  this  show?”  he  asked. 


10 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Sure,"  replied  the  young  man. 

“Any  good?  How's  this  guy  Hitchcock,  anyhow?" 

“Any  good?"  repeated  the  young  man  pityingly.  “Why, 
say,  he’s  the  best  in  the  business.  He’s  got  all  these  other 
would-be  side-ticklers  lashed  to  the  mast.  He’s  a scream. 
Never  laughed  so  much  at  any  one  v all  my  life." 

Is  he  as  good  as  Foy?"  ventured  Foy  hopefully. 

“As  good  as  Foy !"  The  yc r man’s  scorn  was  superb. 
“Why,  this  Hitchcock  has  got  that  Foy  person  looking  like  a 
gloom.  They’re  not  in  the  same  class.  Hitchcock’s  funny.  A 
man  with  feelings  can’t  compare  them.  I’m  sorry  you  asked 
me,  I feel  so  strongly  about  it." 

Eddie  looked  at  him  very  sternly  and  then,  in  the  hollow 
tones  of  a tragedian,  he  said: 

“I  am  Foy." 

“I  know  you  are,"  said  the  young  man  cheerfully.  “I’m 
Hitchcock!" 

Advertisements  are  of  great  use  to  the  vulgar.  First  of  all, 
as  they  are  instruments  of  ambition.  A man  that  is  by  no 
means  big  enough  for  the  Gazette,  may  easily  creep  into  the 
advertisements;  by  which  means  we  often  see  an  apothecary 
in  the  same  paper  of  news  with  a plenipotentiary,  or  a running 
footman  with  an  ambassador. — Addison. 

See  also  Salesmen  and  Salesmanship. 


ADVICE 

Her  exalted  rank  did  not  give  Queen  Victoria  immunity 
from  the  trials  of  a grandmother.  One  of  her  grandsons, 
whose  recklessness  in  spending  money  provoked  her  strong  dis- 
approval, wrote  to  the  Queen  reminding  her  of  his  approach- 
ing birthday  and  delicately  suggesting  that  money  would  be  the 
most  acceptable  gift.  In  her  own  hand  she  answered,  sternly 
reproving  the  youth  for  the  sin  of  extravagance  and  urging 
upon  him  the  practise  of  economy.  His  reply  staggered  her: 
“Dear  Grandma,"  it  ran,  “thank  you  for  your  kind  letter 
of  advice.  I have  sold  the  same  for  five  pounds." 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


ii 


Many  receive  advice,  only  the  wise  profit  by  it  —Publius 
Syrus. 


AERONAUTICS 

A flea  and  a fly  in  a flue, 

Were  imprisoned;  now  what  could  the>  do? 

Said  the  fly,  “let  us  flee.” 

“Let  us  fly,”  said  the  flea, 

And  they  flew  through  a flaw  in  the  flue. 

The  impression  that  men  will  never  fly  like  birds  seems  to  be 
aeroneous. — La  Touche  Hancock . 

AEROPLANES 

“Mother,  may  I go  aeroplane  ? ” 

“Yes,  my  darling  Mary. 

Tie  yourself  to  an  anchor  chain 
And  don’t  go  near  the  airy.” 

— Judge. 

Harry  N.  Atwood,  the  noted  aviator,  was  the  guest  of  honor 
at  a dinner  in  New  York,  and  on  the  occasion  his  eloquent  reply 
to  a toast  on  aviation  terminated  neatly  with  these  words : 

“The  aeroplane  has  come  at  last,  but  it  was  a long  time  com- 
ing. We  can  imagine  Necessity,  the  mother  of  invention,  look- 
ing up  at  a sky  all  criss-crossed  with  flying  machines,  and  then 
saying,  with  a shake  of  her  old  head  and  with  a contented 
smile : 

“ ‘Of  all  my  family,  the  aeroplane  has  been  the  hardest  to 
raise/  ” 

A genius  who  once  did  aspire 
To  invent  an  aerial  flyer, 

When  asked,  “Does  it  go?” 

Replied,  “I  don’t  know ; 

I’m  awaiting  some  damphule  to  try  ’er.” 


12 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


AFTER  DINNER  SPEECHES 

A Frenchman  once  remarked: 

“The  table  is  the  only  place  where  one  is  not  bored  for  the 
first  hour.” 

Every  rose  has  its  thorn 
There’s  fuzz  on  all  the  peaches. 

There  never  was  a dinner  yet 
Without  some  lengthy  speeches. 

Joseph  Chamberlain  was  the  guest  of  honor  at  a dinner  in 
an  important  city.  The  Mayor  presided,  and  when  coffee  *was 
being  served  the  Mayor  leaned  over  and  touched  Mr.  Chamber- 
lain,  saying,  “Shall  we  let  the  people  enjoy  themselves  a little 
longer,  or  had  we  better  have  your  speech  now  ? ” 

“Friend,”  said  one  immigrant  to  another,  “this  is  a grand 
country  to  settle  in.  They  don’t  hang  you  here  for  murder.” 

“What  do  they  do  to  you  ? ” the  other  immigrant  asked. 

“They  kill  you,”  was  the  reply,  “with  elocution.” 

When  Daniel  got  into  the  lions’  den  and  looked  around  he 
thought  to  himself,  “Whoever’s  got  to  do  the  after-dinner  speak- 
ing, it  won’t  be  me.” 

Joseph  H.  Choate  and  Chauncey  Depew  were  invited  to  a 
dinner.  Mr.  Choate  was  to  speak,  and  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  Mr. 
Depew  to  introduce  him,  which  he  did  thus:  “Gentlemen,  per- 
mit me  to  introduce  Ambassador  Choate,  America’s  most  in- 
veterate after-dinner  speaker.  All  you  need  to  do  to  get  a 
speech  out  of  Mr.  Choate  is  to  open  his  mouth,  drop  in  a dinner 
and  up  comes  your  speech.” 

Mr.  Choate  thanked  the  Senator  for  his  compliment,  and 
then  said : “Mr.  Depew  says  if  you  open  my  mouth  and  drop 

in  a dinner  up  will  come  a speech,  but  I warn  you  that  if  you 
open  your  mouths  and  drop  in  one  of  Senator  Depew’s  speeches 
up  will  come  your  dinners.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


13 


Mr.  John  C.  Hackett  recently  told  the  following  story : 

“I  was  up  in  Rockland  County  last  summer,  and  there  was 
a banquet  given  at  a country  hotel.  All  the  farmers  were 
there  and  all  the  village  characters.  I was  asked  to  make  a 
speech. 

" ‘Now/  said  I,  with  the  usual  apologetic  manner,  'it  is  not 
fair  to  you  that  the  toastmaster  should  ask  me  to  speak.  I am 
notorious  as  the  worst  public  speaker  in  the  State  of  New 
York.  My  reputation  extends  from  one  end  of  the  state  to 

the  other.  I have  no  rival  whatever,  when  it  comes ’ I was 

interrupted  by  a lanky,  ill-clad  individual,  who  had  stuck  too 
close  to  the  beer  pitcher. 

“ 'Gentlemen/  said  he,  ‘I  take  ’ception  to  what  this  here  man 
says.  He  ain't  the  worst  public  speaker  in  the  state.  I am. 
You  all  know  it,  an’  I want  it  made  a matter  of  record  that 
I took  ’ception/ 

“ ‘Well,  my  friend,’  said  I,  'suppose  we  leave  it  to  the 
guests.  You  sit  down  while  I say  my  piece,  and  then  I’ll  sit 
down  and  let  you  give  a demonstration.’  The  fellow  agreed 
and  I went  on.  I hadn’t  gone  far  when  he  got  up  again. 

'"  ’S  all  right,’  said  he,  'you  win;  needn’t  go  no  farther!  ’ ” 


Mark  Twain  and  Chauncey  M.  Depew  once  went  abroad  on 
the  same  ship.  When  the  ship  was  a few  days  out  they  were 
both  invited  to  a dinner.  Speech-making  time  came.  Mark 
Twain  had  the  first  chance.  He  spoke  twenty  minutes  and  made 
a great  hit.  Then  it  was  Mr.  Depew’s  turn. 

"Mr.  Toastmaster  and  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,”  said  the 
famous  raconteur  as  he  arose,  "Before  this  dinner  Mark 
Twain  and  myself  made  an  agreement  to  trade  speeches.  He 
has  just  delivered  my  speech,  and  I thank  you  for  the  pleasant 
manner  in  which  you  received  it.  I regret  to  say  that  I have 
lost  the  notes  of  his  speech  and  cannot  remember  anything  he 
was  to  say.” 

Then  he  sat  down.  There  was  much  laughter.  Next  day 
an  Englishman  who  had  been  in  the  party  came  across  Mark 
Twain  in  the  smoking-room.  "Mr  Clemens,”  he  said,  "I  con- 
sider you  were  much  imposed  upon  last  night.  I have  always 
heard  that  Mr.  Depew  is  a clever  man,  but,  really,  that  speech 


14 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


of  his  you  made  last  night  struck  me  as  being  the  most  infernal 
rot.” 


See  also  Orators;  Politicians;  Public  Speakers. 


AGE 

The  good  die  young — Here’s  hoping  that  you  may  live  to  a 
ripe  old  age. 

“How  old  are  you,  Tommy?”  asked  a caller. 

“Well,  when  I’m  home  Pm  five,  when  I’m  in  school  I’m  six, 
and  when  Pm  on  the  cars  I’m  four.” 

“How  effusively  sweet  that  Mrs.  Blondey  is  to  you,  Jonesy,” 
said  Withered.  “What’s  up?  Any  tender  little  romance  there?  ” 

“No,  indeed — why,  that  woman  hates  me,”  said  Jonesy. 

“She  doesn’t  show  it,”  said  Withered. 

“No;  but  she  knows  I know  how  old  she  is — we  were  both 
born  on  the  same  day,”  said  Jonesy,  “and  she’s  afraid  I’ll  ted 
somebody.” 

As  every  southerner  knows,  elderly  colored  people  rarely 
know  how  old  they  are,  and  almost  invariably  assume  an  age 
much  greater  than  belongs  to  them.  In  an  Atlanta  family  there 
is  employed  an  old  chap  named  Joshua  Bolton,  who  has  been 
with  that  family  and  the  previous  generation  for  more  years 
than  they  can  remember.  In  view,  therefore,  of  his  advanced 
age,  it  was  with  surprise  that  his  employer  received  one  day 
an  application  for  a few  days  off,  in  order  that  the  old  fel- 
low might,  as  he  put  it,  “go  up  to  de  ole  State  of  Virginny” 
to  see  his  aunt. 

“Your  aunt  must  be  pretty  old,”  was  the  employer’s  com- 
ment. 

“Yassir,”  said  Joshua.  “She’s  pretty  ole  now.  I reckon  she’s 
’bout  a hundred  an’  ten  years  ole.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


15 

“One  hundred  and  ten!  But  what  on  earth  is  she  doing  up 
in  Virginia?” 

“I  don’t  jest  know,”  explained  Joshua,  “but  I understand 
she’s  up  dere  livin’  wif  her  grandmother.” 

When  “Bob”  Burdette  was  addressing  the  graduating  class 
of  a large  eastern  college  for  women,  he  began  his  remarks 
with  the  usual  salutation,  “Young  ladies  of  ’97.”  Then  in  a 
horrified  aside  he  added,  “That’s  an  awful  age  for  a girl !” 

The  Parson  (about  to  improve  the  golden  hour) — “When  a 
man  reaches  your  age,  Mr.  Dodd,  he  cannot,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  expect  to  live  very  much  longer,  and  I ” 

The  Nonagenarian — “I  dunno,  parson.  I be  stronger  on 
my  legs  than  I were  when  I started!” 


A well-meaning  Washington  florist  was  the  cause  of  much 
embarrassment  to  a young  man  who  was  in  love  with  a rich 
and  beautiful  girl. 

It  appears  that  one  afternoon  she  informed  the  young  man 
that  the  next  day  would  be  her  birthday,  whereupon  the  suitor 
remarked  that  he  would  the  next  morning  send  her  some  roses, 
one  rose  for  each  year. 

That  night  he  wrote  a note  to  his  florist,  ordering  the  delivery 
of  twenty  roses  for  the  young  woman.  The  florist  himself  filled 
the  order,  and,  thinking  to  improve  on  it,  said  to  his  clerk: 

“Here’s  an  order  from  young  Jones  for  twenty  roses.  He’s 
one  of  my  best  customers,  so  I’ll  throw  in  ten  more  for  good 
measure.” — Edwin  T arrisse. 


A small  boy  who  had  recently  passed  his  fifth  birthday  was 
riding  in  a suburban  car  with  his  mother,  when  they  were 
asked  the  customary  question,  “How  old  is  the  boy?”  After 
being  told  the  correct  age,  which  did  not  require  a fare,  the 
conductor  passed  on  to  the  next  person. 

The  boy  sat  quite  still  as  if  pondering  over  some  question, 
and  then,  concluding  that  full  information  had  not  been  given, 
called  loudly  to  the  conductor,  then  at  the  other  end  of  the 
car:  “And  mother’s  thirty-one!” 


i6 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  late  John  Bigelow,  the  patriarch  of  diplomats  and  au- 
thors, and  the  no  less  distinguished  physician  and  author,  Dr. 
S.  Weir  Mitchell,  were  together,  several  years  ago,  at  West 
Point.  Dr.  Bigelow  was  then  ninety-two,  and  Dr.  Mitchell 
eighty. 

The  conversation  turned  to  the  subject  of  age.  “I  attribute 
my  many  years,”  said  Dr.  Bigelow,  “to  the  fact  that  I have 
been  most  abstemious.  I have  eaten  sparingly,  and  have  not 
used  tobacco,  and  have  taken  little  exercise.” 

“It  is  just  the  reverse  in  my  case,”  explained  Dr.  Mitchell. 
“I  have  eaten  just  as  much  as  I wished,  if  I could  get  it;  I 
have  always  used  tobacco,  immoderately  at  times;  and  I have 
always  taken  a great  deal  of  exercise.” 

With  that,  Ninety-Two- Years  shook  his  head  at  Eighty- 
Years  and  said,  “Well,  you  will  never  live  to  be  an  old  man!” — 
Sarah  Bache  Hodge. 

A wise  man  never  puts  away  childish  things. — Sidney  Dark. 

To  the  old,  long  life  and  treasure; 

To  the  young,  all  health  and  pleasure. 

— Ben  Jonson. 

Youth  is  a blunder;  Manhood  a struggle;  Old  Age  a re- 
gret.— Disraeli. 

We  do  not  count  a man’s  years,  until  he  has  nothing  else  to 
count. — Emerson. 

To  be  seventy  years  young  is  sometimes  far  more  cheerful 
and  hopeful  than  to  be  forty  years  old. — O.  W.  Holmes. 


AGENTS 

“John,  whatever  induced  you  to  buy  a house  in  this  for- 
saken region?” 

“One  of  the  best  men  in  the  business.” — Life 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


1 7 


AGRICULTURE 

A farmer,  according  to  this  definition,  is  a man  who  makes 
his  money  on  the  farm  and  spends  it  in  town.  An  agricul- 
turist is  a man  who  makes  his  money  in  town  and  spends  it  on 
the  farm. 

In  certain  parts  of  the  west,  where  without  irrigation  the 
cultivators  of  the  land  would  be  in  a bad  way  indeed,  the  light 
rains  that  during  the  growing  season  fall  from  time  to  time, 
are  appreciated  to  a degree  that  is  unknown  in  the  east. 

Last  summer  a fruit  grower  who  owns  fifty  acres  of  or- 
chards was  rejoicing  in  one  of  these  precipitations  of  moisture, 
when  his  hired  man  came  into  the  house. 

“Why  don’t  you  stay  in  out  of  the  rain?”  asked  the  fruit- 
man. 

“I  don’t  mind  a little  dew  like  this,”  said  the  man.  “I  can 
work  along  just  the  same.” 

“Oh,  I’m  not  talking  about  that,”  exclaimed  the  fruit-man. 
“The  next  time  it  rains,  you  can  come  into  the  house.  I want 
that  water  on  the  land.” 

They  used  to  have  a farming  rule 
Of  forty  acres  and  a mule. 

Results  were  won  by  later  men 
With  forty  square  feet  and  a hen. 

And  nowadays  success  we  see 
With  forty  inches  and  a bee. 

— Wasp. 

Blessed  be  agriculture  ! if  one  does  not  have  too  much  of  it. — 
Charles  Dudley  Warner. 

When  tillage  begins,  other  arts  follow.  The  farmers,  there- 
fore, are  the  founders  of  human  civilization. — Daniel  Webster. 

ALARM  CLOCKS 

Mike  (in  bed,  to  alarm-clock  as  it  goes  off) — “I  fooled  yez 
that  time.  I was  not  aslape  at  all.” 


i8 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ALERTNESS 

“Alert  ?”  repeated  a congressman,  when  questioned  con- 
cerning one  of  his  political  opponents.  “Why,  he’s  alert  as  a 
Providence  bridegroom  I heard  of  the  other  day.  You  know 
how  bridegrooms  starting  off  on  their  honeymoons  sometimes 
forget  all  about  their  brides,  and  buy  tickets  only  for  them- 
selves? That  is  what  happened  to  the  Providence  young  man. 
And  when  his  wife  said  to  him,  ‘Why,  Tom,  you  bought  only 
one  ticket/  he  answered  without  a moment’s  hesitation,  ‘By 
Jove,  you’re  right,  dear!  I’d  forgotten  myself  entirely !’” 

ALIBI 

A party  of  Manila  army  women  were  returning  in  an  auto 
from  a suburban  excursion  when  the  driver  unfortunately  col- 
lided with  another  vehicle.  While  a policeman  was  taking 
down  the  names  of  those  concerned  an  “English-speaking” 
Filipino  law-student  politely  asked  one  of  the  ladies  how  the 
accident  had  happened. 

“I’m  sure  I don’t  know,”  she  replied;  “I  was  asleep  when 
it  occurred.” 

Proud  of  his  knowledge  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  tongue,  the 
youth  replied: 

“Ah,  madam,  then  you  will  be  able  to  prove  a lullaby.” 
ALIMONY 

'‘What  is  alimony,  ma?” 

“It  is  a man’s  cash  surrender  value.” — Town  Topics 

The  proof  of  the  wedding  is  in  the  alimony. 

ALLOWANCES 

“Why  don’t  you  give  your  wife  an  allowance?” 

“I  did  once,  and  she  spent  it  before  I could  borrow  it  back.” 

ALTERNATIVES 


See  Choices. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


19 


' ALTRUISM 

Willie — “Pa !” 

Pa — ‘‘Yes/’ 

Willie — “Teacher  says  we're  here  to  help  others/' 

Pa — “Of  course  we  are.'' 

Willie — “Well,  what  are  the  others  here  for?" 

There  was  once  a remarkably  kind  boy  who  was  a great 
angler.  There  was  a trout  stream  in  his  neighborhood  that 
ran  through  a rich  man’s  estate.  Permits  to  fish  the  stream 
could  now  and  then  be  obtained,  and  the  boy  was  lucky  enough 
to  have  a permit. 

One  day  he  was  fishing  with  another  boy  when  a game- 
keeper  suddenly  darted  forth  from  a thicket.  The  lad  with 
the  permit  uttered  a cry  of  fright,  dropped  his  rod,  and  ran 
off  at  top  speed.  The  gamekeeper  pursued. 

For  about  half  a mile  the  gamekeeper  was  led  a swift  and 
difficult  chase.  Then,  worn  out,  the  boy  halted.  The  man 
seized  him  by  the  arm  and  said  between  pants : 

“Have  you  a permit  to  fish  on  this  estate? 

“Yes  to  be  sure,"  said  the  boy,  quietly. 

“You  have?  Then  show  it  to  me." 

The  boy  drew  the  permit  from  his  pocket.  The  man  ex- 
amined it  and  frowned  in  perplexity  and  anger. 

“Why  did  you  run  when  you  had  this  permit?"  he  asked. 

“To  let  the  other  boy  get  away,"  was  the  reply.  “He  didn't 
have  none !" 


AMBITION 

Oliver  Herford  sat  next  to  a soulful  poetess  at  dinner  one 
night,  and  that  dreamy  one  turned  her  sad  eyes  upon  him. 
“Have  you  no  other  ambition,  Mr.  Herford,"  she  demanded, 
“than  to  force  people  to  degrade  themselves  by  laughter?" 

Yes,  Herford  had  an  ambition.  A whale  of  an  ambition. 
Some  day  he  hoped  to  gratify  it. 

The  woman  rested  her  elbows  on  the  table  and  propped 
her  face  in  her  long,  sad  hands,  and  glowed  into  Mr.  Her- 


20 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ford’s  eyes.  “Oh,  Mr.  Herford,”  she  said,  “Oliver!  Tell  n;e 
about  it.” 

“I  want  to  throw  an  egg  into  an  electric  fan,”  said  Her- 
ford, simply. 

“Hubby,”  said  the  observant  wife,  “the  janitor  of  these  flats 
is  a bachelor.” 

“What  of  it?” 

“I  really  think  he  is  becoming  interested  in  our  oldest  daugh- 
ter.” 

“There  you  go  again  with  your  pipe  dreams!  Last  week  it 
was  a duke.” 

The  chief  end  of  a man  in  New  York  is  dissipation;  in 
Boston,  conversation. 

When  you  are  aspiring  to  the  highest  place,  it  ,is  honorable 
to  reach  the  second  or  even  the  third  rank. — Cicero. 

The  man  who  seeks  one  thing  in  life,  and  but  one, 

May  hope  to  achieve  it  before  life  be  done; 

But  he  who  seeks  all  things,  wherever  he  goes, 

Only  reaps  from  the  hopes  which  around  him  he  sows 
A harvest  of  barren  regrets. 

— Owen  Meredith 


AMERICAN  GIRL 

Here’s  to  the  dearest 
Of  all  things  on  earth. 

(Dearest  precisely — 

And  yet  of  full  worth.) 

One  who  lays  siege  to 
Susceptible  hearts. 

(Pocket-books  also — 
That’s  one  of  her  arts!) 

Drink  to  her,  toast  her, 
Your  banner  unfurl — 

Here’s  to  the  priceless 
American  Girl! 


— Walter  Pulitzer. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


21 


AMERICANS 

Eugene  Field  was  at  a dinner  in  London  when  the  conversa- 
tion turned  to  the  subject  of  lynching  in  the  United  States. 

It  was  the  general  opinion  that  a large  percentage  of  Ameri- 
cans met  death  at  the  end  of  a rope.  Finally  the  hostess  turned 
to  Field  and  asked : 

“You,  sir,  must  have  often  seen  these  affairs  ? ” 

“Yes,”  replied  Field,  “hundreds  of  them.” 

“Oh,  do  tell  us  about  a lynching  you  have  seen  yourself,” 
broke  in  half  a dozen  voices  at  once. 

“Well,  the  night  before  I sailed  for  England,”  said  Field, 
“I  was  giving  a dinner  at  a hotel  to  a party  of  intimate  friends 
when  a colored  waiter  spilled  a plate  of  soup  over  the  gown 
of  a lady  at  an  adjoining  table.  The  gown  was  utterly  ruined, 
and  the  gentlemen  of  her  party  at  once  seized  the  waiter,  tied 
a rope  around  his  neck,  and  at  a signal  from  the  injured  lady 
swung  him  into  the  air.” 

“Horrible ! ” said  the  hostess  with  a shudder.  “And  did  you 
actually  see  this  yourself?  ” 

“Well,  no,”  admitted  Field  apologetically.  “Just  at  that 
moment  I happened  to  be  downstairs  killing  the  chef  for  putting 
mustard  in  the  blanc  mange.” 

You  can  always  tell  the  English, 

You  can  always  tell  the  Dutch, 

You  can  always  tell  the  Yankees — 

But  you  can't  tell  them  much  ! 

AMUSEMENTS 

A newspaper  thus  defined  amusements: 

The  Friends'  picnic  this  year  was  not  as  well  attended  as  it 
has  been  for  some  years.  This  can  be  laid  to  three  causes,  viz./ 
the  change  of  place  in  holding  it,  deaths  in  families,  and  other 
amusements. 

I wish  that  my  room  had  a floor; 

I don’t  so  much  care  for  a door; 

But  this  crawling  around 
Without  touching  the  ground 

Is  getting  to  be  quite  a bore. 


22 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


I am  a great  friend  to  public  amusements;  for  they  keep 
people  from  vice. — Samuel  Johnson. 

ANATOMY 

Tommy — “My  gran’pa  wuz  in  tlT  civil  war,  an'  he  lost  a leg 
or  a arm  in  every  battle  he  fit  in ! ” 

Johnny — “Gee!  How  many  battles  was  he  in?” 

Tommy — “About  forty.” 

They  thought  more  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  the  time  of 
the  first  Napoleon  than  they  do  now.  The  emperor  one  day  met 
an  old  one-armed  veteran. 

“How  did  you  lose  your  arm?  ” he  asked. 

“Sire,  at  Austerlitz.” 

“And  were  you  not  decorated?  ” 

“No,  sire.” 

“Then  here  is  my  own  cross  for  you;  I make  you  chevalier.” 

“Your  Majesty  names  me  chevalier  because  I have  lost  one 
arm.  What  would  your  Majesty  have  done  had  I lost  both 
arms  ? ” 

“Oh,  in  that  case  I should  have  made  you  Officer  of  the 
Legion.” 

Whereupon  the  old  soldier  immediately  drew  his  sword  and 
cut  off  his  other  arm. 

There  is  no  particular  reason  to  doubt  this  story.  The  only 
question  is,  how  did  he  do  it? 

ANCESTRY 

A western  buyer  is  inordinately  proud  of  the  fact  that  one 
of  his  ancestors  affixed  his  name  to  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. At  the  time  the  salesman  called,  the  buyer  was 
signing  a number  of  checks  and  affixed  his  signature  with  many 
a curve  and  flourish.  The  salesman's  patience  becoming  ex- 
hausted in  waiting  for  the  buyer  to  recognize  him,  he  finally 
observed : 

“You  have  a fine  signature,  Mr.  So-and-So.” 

“Yes,”  admitted  the  buyer,  “I  should  have.  One  of  my  fore- 
fathers signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


23 


“So?”  said  the  caller,  with  rising  inflection.  And  then  he 
added : 

“Veil,  you  aind’t  got  nottings  on  me.  One  of  my  forefathers 
signed  the  Ten  Commandments.” 


In  a speech  in  the  Senate  on  Hawaiian  affairs,  Senator  Depew 
of  New  York  told  this  story: 

When  Queen  Liliuokalani  was  in  England  during  the  English 
queen’s  jubilee,  she  was  received  at  Buckingham  Palace.  In  the 
course  of  the  remarks  that  passed  between  the  two  queens,  the 
one  from  the  Sandwich  Islands  said  that  she  had  English  blood 
in  her  veins. 

“How  so  ? ” inquired  Victoria. 

“My  ancestors  ate  Captain  Cook.” 


Signor  Marconi,  in  an  interview  in  Washington,  praised 
American  democracy. 

“Over  here,”  he  said,  “you  respect  a man  for  what  he  is  him- 
self— not  for  what  his  family  is — and  thus  you  remind  me  of  the 
gardener  in  Bologna  who  helped  me  with  my  first  wireless  ap- 
paratus. 

“As  my  mother’s  gardener  and  I were  working  on  my  ap- 
paratus together  a young  count  joined  us  one  day,  and  while  he 
watched  us  work  the  count  boasted  of  his  lineage. 

“The  gardener,  after  listening  a long  while,  smiled  and  said : 

“ Tf  you  come  from  an  ancient  family,  it’s  so  much  the 
worse  for  you  sir;  for,  as  we  gardeners  say,  the  older  the  seed 
the  worse  the  crop.’  ” 


“Gerald,”  said  the  young  wife,  noticing  how  heartily  he  was 
eating,  “do  I cook  as  well  as  your  mother  did  ? ” 

Gerald  put  up  his  monocle,  and  stared  at  her  through  it. 
“Once  and  for  all,  Agatha,”  he  said,  “I  beg  you  will  re- 
member that  although  I may  seem  to  be  in  reduced  circumstances 
now,  I come  of  an  old  and  distinguished  family.  My  mother 
was  not  a cook.” 


24 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“My  ancestors  came  over  in  the  ‘Mayflower/  ” 

“That’s  nothing;  my  father  descended  from  an  aeroplane.” — 
Life . 

When  in  England,  Governor  Foss,  of  Massachusetts,  had 
luncheon  with  a prominent  Englishman  noted  for  boasting  of 
his  ancestry.  Taking  a coin  from  his  pocket,  the  Englishman 
said : “My  great-great-grandfather  was  made  a lord  by  the 

king  whose  picture  you  see  on  this  shilling.”  “Indeed ! ” re- 
plied the  governor,  smiling,  as  he  produced  another  coin.  “What 
a coincidence ! My  great-great-grandfather  was  made  an  angel 
by  the  Indian  whose  picture  you  see  on  this  cent.” 

People  will  not  look  forward  to  posterity,  who  never  look 
backward  to  their  ancestors. — Burke. 

From  yon  blue  heavens  above  us  bent, 

The  gardener  Adam  and  his  wife 
Smile  at  the  claims  of  long  descent. 

— T ennyson. 

ANGER 

Charlie  and  Nancy  had  quarreled.  After  their  supper  Mother 
tried  to  re-establish  friendly  relations.  She  told  them  of  the 
Bible  verse,  “Let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath.” 

“Now,  Charlie,”  she  pleaded,  “are  you  going  to  let  the  sun  go 
down  oir  your  wrath  ? ” 

Charlie  squirmed  a little.  Then: 

“Well,  how  can  I stop  it?  ” 

When  a husband  loses  his  temper  he  usually  finds  his  wife’s. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  restrain  our  wrath  when  the  other  fellow 
is  the  bigger. 


ANNIVERSARIES 

Mrs.  Jones — “Does  your  husband  remember  your  wedding 
anniversary?  ” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


25 


Mrs.  Smith — “No;  so  I remind  him  of  it  in  January  and 
June,  and  get  two  presents.” 

ANTIDOTES 

“Suppose,”  asked  the  professor  in  chemistry,  “that  you  were 
summoned  to  the  side  of  a patient  who  had  accidentally  swal- 
lowed a heavy  dose  of  oxalic  acid,  what  would  you  administer?  ” 
The  student  who,  studying  for  the  ministry,  took  chemistry 
because  it  was  obligatory  in  the  course,  replied,  “I  would  ad- 
minister the  sacrament.” 


APPEARANCES 

“How  fat  and  well  your  little  boy  looks.” 

“Ah,  you  should  never  judge  from  appearances.  He’s  got  a 
gumboil  on  one  side  of  his  face  and  he  has  been  stung  by  a 
wasp  on  the  other.” 


APPLAUSE 

A certain  theatrical  troupe,  after  a dreary  and  unsuccessful 
tour,  finally  arrived  in  a small  New  Jersey  town.  That  night, 
though  there  was  no  furore  or  general  uprising  of  the  audience, 
there  was  enough  hand-clapping  to  arouse  the  troupe’s  dejected 
spirits.  The  leading  man  stepped  to  the  foot-lights  after  the  first 
act  and  bowed  profoundly.  Still  the  clapping  continued. 

When  he  went  behind  the  scenes  he  saw  an  Irish  stagehand 
laughing  heartily.  “Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?”  asked 
the  actor,  throwing  out  his  chest. 

“What  d’ye  mane?”  replied  the  Irishman. 

“Why,  the  hand-clapping  out  there,”  was  the  reply. 

“Hand-clapping?  ” 

“Yes,”  said  the  Thespian,  “they  are  giving  me  enough  ap- 
plause to  show  they  appreciate  me.” 

“D’ye  call  thot  applause?”  inquired  the  old  fellow.  “Whoi, 
thot’s  not  applause.  Thot’s  the  audience  killin’  mosquitoes.” 

Applause  is  the  spur  of  noble  minds,  the  end  and  aim  of  weak 
ones. — Colton. 


26 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


O Popular  Applause!  what  heart  of  man  is  proof  against  thy 
sweet,  seducing  charms? — Cowper. 

ARBITRATION,  INTERNATIONAL 

A war  was  going  on,  and  one  day,  the  papers  being  full  of 
the  grim  details  of  a bloody  battle,  a woman  said  to  her  husband : 

“This  slaughter  is  shocking.  It’s  fiendish.  Can  nothing  be 
done  to  stop  it?  ” 

“I’m  afraid  not,”  her  husband  answered. 

“Why  don’t  both  sides  come  together  and  arbitrate  ? ” she 
cried. 

“They  did,”  said  he.  “They  did,  ’way  back  in  June.  That’s 
how  the  gol-durned  thing  started.” 

ARITHMETIC 

“He  seems  to  be  very  clever.” 

“Yes,  indeed.  He  can  even  do  the  problems  that  his  children 
have  to  work  out  at  school.” 

Sonny — “Aw,  pop,  I don’t  wanter  study  arithmetic.” 

Pop — “What!  a son  of  mine  grow  up  and  not  be  able  to 
figure  up  baseball  scores  and  batting  averages?  Never!” 

Teacher — “Now,  Johnny,  suppose  I should  borrow  $100 
from  your  father  and  should  pay  him  $10  a month  for  ten 
months,  how  much  would  I then  owe  him  ? ” 

Johnny — “About  $3  interest.” 

“See  how  I can  count,  mama,”  said  Kitty.  “There’s  my  right 
foot.  That’s  one.  There’s  my  left  foot.  That’s  two.  Two  and 
one  make  three.  Three  feet  make  a yard,  and  I want  to  go  out 
and  play  in  it ! ” 

“Two  old  salts  who  had  spent  most  o£  their  lives  on  fish- 
ing smacks  had  an  argument  one  day  as  to  which  was  the 
better  mathematician,”  said  George  C.  Wiedenmayer  the  other 
day.  “Finally  the  captain  of  their  ship  proposed  the  follow- 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


27 


in g problem  which  each  would  try  to  work  out:  ‘If  a fishing 
crew  caught  500  pounds  of  cod  and  brought  their  catch  to 
port  and  sold  it  at  6 cents  a pound,  how  much  would  they 
receive  for  the  fish?’ 

“Well,  the  two  old  fellows  got  to  work,  but  neither  seemed 
able  to  master  the  intricacies  of  the  deal  in  fish,  and  they  were 
unable  to  get  any  answer. 

“At  last  old  Bill  turned  to  the  captain  and  asked  him  to 
repeat  the  problem.  The  captain  started  off : ‘If  a fishing  crew 
caught  500  pounds  of  cod  and .’ 

“‘Wait  a moment/  said  Bill,  ‘is  it  codfish  they  caught?’ 

“ ‘Yep,’  said  the  captain. 

“‘Darn  it  all/  said  Bill.  ‘No  wonder  I couldn’t  get  an  an- 
swer. Here  I’ve  been  figuring  on  salmon  all  the  time/  ” 


ARMIES 

A new  volunteer  at  a national  guard  encampment  who  had 
not  quite  learned  his  business,  was  on  sentry  duty,  one  night, 
when  a friend  brought  a pie  from  the  canteen. 

As  he  sat  on  the  grass  eating  pie,  the  major  sauntered  up 
in  undress  uniform.  The  sentry,  not  recognizing  him,  did  not 
salute,  and  the  major  stopped  and  said: 

“What’s  that  you  have  there?” 

“Pie,”  said  the  sentry,  good-naturedly.  “Apple  pie.  Have  a 
bite?” 

The  major  frowned. 

“Do  you  know  who  I am?”  he  asked. 

“No,”  said  the  sentry,  “unless  you’re  the  major’s  groom.” 

The  major  shook  his  head. 

“Guess  again,”  he  growled. 

“The  barber  from  the  village?” 

“No.” 

“Maybe” — here  the  sentry  laughed — “maybe  you’re  the  major 
himself?” 

“That’s  right.  I am  the  major,”  was  the  stern  reply. 

The  sentry  scrambled  to  his  feet. 

“Good  gracious !”  he  exclaimed.  “Hold  the  pie,  will  you, 
while  I present  arms !” 


28 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  battle  was  going  against  him.  The  commander-in-chief, 
himself  ruler  of  the  South  American  republic,  sent  an  aide 
to  the  rear,  ordering  General  Blanco  to  bring  up  his  regiment 
at  once.  Ten  minutes  passed;  but  it  didn’t  come.  Twenty, 
thirty,  and  an  hour — still  no  regiment.  The  aide  came  tearing 
back  hatless,  breathless. 

“My  regiment!  My  regiment!  Where  is  it?  Where  is  it?” 
shrieked  the  commander. 

“General,”  answered  the  excited  aide,  “Blanco  started  it 
all  right,  but  there  are  a couple  of  drunken  Americans  down 

the  road  and  they  won’t  let  it  go  by.” 

An  army  officer  decided  to  see  for  himself  how  his  sen- 
tries were  doing  their  duty.  He  was  somewhat  surprised  at 
overhearing  the  following: 

“Halt!  Who  goes  there?” 

“Friend — with  a bottle.” 

“Pass,  friend.  Halt,  bottle.” 

“A  war  is  a fearful  thing,”  said  Mr.  Dolan. 

“It  is,”  replied  Mr.  Rafferty.  “When  you  see  the  fierceness 
of  members  of  the  army  toward  one  another,  the  fate  of  a 
common  enemy  must  be  horrible.” 

See  also  Military  Discipline. 


ARMY  RATIONS 

The  colonel  of  a volunteer  regiment  camping  in  Virginia 
came  across  a private  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  painfully 
munching  on  something.  His  face  was  wry  and  his  lips  seemed 
to  move  only  with  the  greatest  effort. 

“What  are  you  eating?”  demanded  the  colonel. 

“Persimmons,  sir.” 

“Good  Heavens ! Haven’t  you  got  any  more  sense  than  to 
eat  persimmons  at  this  time  of  the  year?  They’ll  pucker  the 
very  stomach  out  of  you.” 

“I  know,  sir.  That’s  why  I’m  eatin’  ’em.  I’m  tryin’  to 
shrink  me  stomach  to  fit  me  rations.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


29 


On  the  occasion  of  the  annual  encampment  of  a western 
militia,  one  of  the  soldiers,  a clerk  who  lived  well  at  home, 
was  experiencing  much  difficulty  in  disposing  of  his  rations. 

A fellow-sufferer  nearby  was  watching  with  no  little  amuse- 
ment the  first  soldier’s  attempts  to  Fletcherize  a piece  of  meat. 
“Any  trouble,  Tom?”  asked  the  second  soldier  sarcastically. 

“None  in  particular,”  was  the  response.  Then,  after  a sul- 
len survey  of  the  bit  of  beef  he  held  in  his  hand,  the  amateur 
fighter  observed: 

“Bill,  I now  fully  realize  what  people  mean  when  they  speak 
of  the  sinews  of  war.” — Howard  Morse. 


ART 

There  was  an  old  sculptor  named  Phidias, 

Whose  knowledge  of  Art  was  invidious. 

He  carved  Aphrodite 
Without  any  nightie — 

Which  startled  the  purely  fastidious. 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 

The  friend  had  dropped  in  to  see  D’Auber,  the  great  ani- 
mal painter,  put  the  finishing  touches  on  his  latest  painting. 
He  was  mystified,  however,  when  D’Auber  took  some  raw  meat 
and  rubbed  it  vigorously  over  the  painted  rabbit  in  the  fore- 
ground. 

“Why  on  earth  did  you  do  that?”  he  asked. 

“Why  you  see,”  explained  D’Auber,  “Mrs  Millions  is  coming 
to  see  this  picture  today.  When  she  sees  her  pet  poodle  smell 
that  rabbit,  and  get  excited  over  it,  she’ll  buy  it  on  the  spot.” 


A young  artist  once  persuaded  Whistler  to  come  and  view 
his  latest  effort.  The  two  stood  before  the  canvas  for  some 
moments  in  silence.  Finally  the  young  man  asked  timidly, 
“Don’t  you  think,  sir,  that  this  painting  of  mine  is — well — er — 
tolerable?”  • 

Whistler’s  eyes  twinkled  dangerously. 

“What  is  your  opinion  of  a tolerable  egg?”  he  asked. 


30 


TO  ASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  amateur  artist  was  painting — sunset,  red  with  blue 
streaks  and  green  dots. 

The  old  rustic,  at  a respectful  distance,  was  watching. 

“Ah,”  said  the  artist  looking  up  suddenly,  “perhaps  to  you, 
too,  Nature  has  opened  her  sky  picture  page  by  page!  Have  you 
seen  the  lambent  flame  of  dawn  leaping  across  the  livid  east;  the 
red-stained,  sulphurous  islets  floating  in  the  lake  of  fire  in  the 
west;  the  ragged  clouds  at  midnight,  black  as  a raven’s  wing, 
blotting  out  the  shuddering  moon?” 

“No,”  replied  the  rustic,  “not  since  I give  up  drink.” 

Art  is  indeed  not  the  bread  but  the  wine  of  life. — Jean  Paul 
Richter. 

Now  nature  is  not  at  variance  with  art,  nor  art  with  na- 
ture; they  being  both  the  servants  of  His  providence.  Art  is 
the  perfection  of  nature.  Were  the  world  now  as  it  was  the 
sixth  day,  there  were  yet  a chaos.  Nature  hath  made  one 
world,  and  art  another.  In  brief,  all  things  are  artificial;  for 
nature  is  the  art  of  God. — Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

ARTISTS 

Artist — “I’d  like  to  devote  my  last  picture  to  a charitable 
purpose.” 

Critic — “Why  not  give  it  to  an  institution  for  the  blind?” 

“Wealth  has  its  penalties,”  said  the  ready-made  philosopher. 

“Yes,”  replied  Mr.  Cumrox.  “I’d  rather  be  back  at  the 
dear  old  factory  than  learning  to  pronounce  the  names  of  the 
old  masters  in  my  picture-gallery.” 

Critic — “By  George,  old  chap,  when  I look  at  one  of  your 
paintings  I stand  and  wonder ” 

Artist — “How  I do  it?” 

Critic — “No;  why  you  do  it.” 

He  that  seeks  popularity  in  art  closes  the  door  on  his  own 
genius : as  he  must  needs  paint  for  other  minds,  and  not  for 
his  own. — Mrs.  Jameson. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


3i 


ATHLETES 

The  caller’s  eye  had  caught  the  photograph  of  Tommie  Bil- 
lups, standing  on  the  desk  of  Mr.  Billups. 

“That  your  boy,  Billups  V*  he  asked. 

“Yes/’  said  Billups,  “he’s  a sophomore  up  at  Binkton  Col- 
lege.” 

“Looks  intellectual  rather  than  athletic,”  said  the  caller. 

“Oh,  he’s  an  athlete  all  right,”  said  Billups.  “When  it  comes 
to  running  up  accounts,  and  jumping  his  board-bill,  and  lifting 
his  voice,  and  throwing  a thirty-two  pound  bluff,  there  isn’t 
a gladiator  in  creation  that  can  give  my  boy  Tommie  any  kind 
of  a handicap.  He’s  just  written  for  an  extra  check.” 

“And  as  a proud  father  you  are  sending  it,  I don’t  doubt,” 
smiled  the  caller. 

“Yes,”  grinned  Billups;  “I  am  sending  him  a rain-check  I 
got  at  the  ball-game  yesterday.  As  an  athlete,  he’ll  appreciate 
its  value.”—/.  K.  B. 


ATTENTION 

The  supervisor  of  a school  was  trying  to  prove  that  chil- 
dren are  lacking  in  observation. 

To  the  children  he  said,  “Now,  children,  tell  me  a number 
to  put  on  the  board.” 

Some  child  said,  “Thirty-six.”  The  supervisor  wrote  six- 
ty-three. 

He  asked  for  another  number,  and  seventy-six  was  given. 
He  wrote  sixty-seven. 

When  a third  number  was  asked,  a child  who  apparently 
had  paid  no  attention  called  out : 

Theventy-theven.  Change  that  you  thucker!” 

AUTHORS 

The  following  is  a recipe  for  an  author: 

Take  the  usual  number  of  fingers, 

Add  paper,  manila  or  white, 

A typewriter,  plenty  of  postage — 

And  something  or  other  to  write. 


—Life. 


32 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Oscar  Wilde,  upon  hearing  one  of  Whistler’s  bon  mots 
exclaimed:  “Oh,  Jimmy;  I wish  I had  said  that!”  “Never  mind, 
dear  Oscar,”  was  the  rejoinder,  “you  will!” 

The  Author — “Would  you  advise  me  to  get  out  a small  edi- 
tion ?” 

The  Publisher — “Yes,  the  smaller  the  better.  The  more 
scarce  a book  is  at  the  end  of  four  or  five  centuries  the  more 
money  you  realize  from  it.” 

Ambitious  Author — “Hurray ! Five  dollars  for  my  latest 
story,  The  Call  of  the  Lure  !’  ” 

Fast  Friend — “Who  from?” 

Ambitious  Author — “The  express  company.  They  lost  it.” 

A lady  who  had  arranged  an  authors’  reading  at  her  house 
succeeded  in  persuading  her  reluctant  husband  to  stay  home 
that  evening  to  assist  in  receiving  the  guests.  He  stood  the 
entertainment  as  long  as  he  could — three  authors,  to  be  exact — 
and  then  made  an  excuse  that  he  was  going  to  open  the  front 
door  to  let  in  some  fresh  air.  In  the  hall  he  found  one  of  the 
servants  asleep  on  a settee. 

“Wake  up !”  he  commanded,  shaking  the  fellow  roughly. 
“What  does  this  mean,  your  being  asleep  out  here?  You  must 
have  been  listening  at  the  keyhole.” 

An  ambitious  young  man  called  upon  a publisher  and  stated 
that  he  had  decided  to  write  a book. 

“May  I venture  to  inquire  as  to  the  nature  of  the  book  you 
propose  to  write?”  asked  the  publisher,  very  politely. 

“Oh,”  came  in  an  offhand  way  from  the  aspirant  to  literary 
fame,  “I  think  of  doing  something  on  the  line  of  ‘Les  Mise- 
rables,’  only  livelier,  you  know.” 

“So  you  have  had  a long  siege  of  nervous  prostration?”  we 
say  to  the  haggard  author.  “What  caused  it?  Overwork?” 

“In  a way,  yes,”  he  answers  weakly.  “I  tried  to  do  a novel 
with  a Robert  W.  Chambers  hero  and  a Mary  E.  Wilkins 
heroine.” — Life. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


33 


Mark  Twain  at  a dinner  at  the  Authors’  Club  said : “Speak- 
ing of  fresh  eggs,  I am  reminded  of  the  town  of  Squash.  In 
my  early  lecturing  days  I went  to  Squash  to  lecture  in  Temper- 
ance Hall,  arriving  in  the  afternoon.  The  town  seemed  very 
poorly  billed.  I thought  I’d  find  out  if  the  people  knew  anything 
at  all  about  what  was  in  store  for  them.  So  I turned  in  at  the 
general  store.  ‘Good  afternoon,  friend/  I said  to  the  general 
storekeeper.  ‘Any  entertainment  here  tonight  to  help  a stranger 
while  away  his  evening?’  The  general  storekeeper,  who  was 
sorting  mackerels,  straightened  up,  wiped  his  briny  hands  on  his 
apron,  and  said:  ‘I  expect  there’s  goin’  to  be  a lecture.  I’ve 

been  sellin’  eggs  all  day.” 

An  American  friend  of  Edmond  Rostand  says  that  the  great 
dramatist  once  told  him  of  a curious  encounter  he  had  had  with 
a local  magistrate  in  a town  not  far  from  his  own. 

It  appears  that  Rostand  had  been  asked  to  register  the  birth 
of  a friend’s  newly  arrived  son.  The  clerk  at  the  registry  office 
was  an  officious  little  chap,  bent  on  carrying  out  the  letter  of  the 
law.  The  following  dialogue  ensued : 

“Your  name,  sir?” 

“Edmond  Rostand.” 

“Vocation?” 

“Man  of  letters,  and  member  of  the  French  Academy.” 

“Very  well,  sir.  You  must  sign  your  name.  Can  you  write? 
If  not,  you  may  make  a cross.” — Howard  Morse. 

George  W.  Cable,  the  southern  writer,  was  visiting  a western 
city  where  he  was  invited  to  inspect  the  new  free  library.  The 
librarian  conducted  the  famous  writer  through  the  building  until 
they  finally  reached  the  department  of  books  devoted  to  fiction. 

“We  have  all  your  books,  Mr.  Cable,”  proudly  said  the  librar- 
ian. “You  see  there  they  are — all  of  them  on  the  shelves  there : 
not  one  missing.” 

And  Mr.  Cable’s  hearty  laugh  was  not  for  the  reason  that  the 
librarian  thought! 

Brief  History  of  a Successful  Author:  From  ink-pots  to  flesh- 
pots. — R.  R.  Kirk. 


34 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“It  took  me  nearly  ten  years  to  learn  that  I couldn’t  write 
stories.” 

“I  suppose  you  gave  it  up  then?” 

“No,  no.  By  that  time  I had  a reputation.” 

“I  dream  my  stories,”  said  Hicks,  the  author. 

“How  you  must  dread  going  to  bed ! ” exclaimed  Cynicus. 

The  five-year-old  son  of  James  Oppenheim,  author  of  “The 
Olympian,”  was  recently  asked  what  work  he  was  going  to  do 
when  he  became  a man.  “Oh,”  Ralph  replied,  “I’m  not  going  to 
work  at  all.”  “Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do,  then?  ” he  was 
asked.  “Why,”  he  said  seriously,  “I’m  just  going  to  write  stories, 
like  daddy.” 

William  Dean  Howells  is  the  kindliest  of  critics,  but  now  and 
then  some  popular  novelist’s  conceit  will  cause  him  to  bristle  up 
a little. 

“You  know,”  said  one,  fishing  for  compliments,  “I  get  richer 
and  richer,  but  all  the  same  I think  my  work  is  falling  off.  My 
new  work  is  not  so  good  as  my  old.” 

“Oh,  nonsense!”  said  Mr.  Howells.  “You  write  just  as  well 
as  you  ever  did.  Your  taste  is  improving,  that’s  all.” 

James  Oliver  Curwood,  a novelist,  tells  of  a recent  encounter 
with  the  law.  The  value  of  a short  story  he  was  writing  de- 
pended upon  a certain  legal  situation  which  he  found  difficult  to 
manage.  Going  to  a lawyer  of  his  acquaintance  he  told  him  the 
plot  and  was  shown  a way  to  the  desired  end.  “You’ve  saved  me 
just  $100,”  he  exclaimed,  “for  that’s  what  I am  going  to  get  for 
this  story.” 

A week  later  he  received  a bill  from  the  lawyer  as  follows : 
“For  literary  advice,  $100.”  He  says  he  paid. 

“Tried  to  skin  me,  that  scribbler  did ! ” 

“What  did  he  want  ? ” 

“Wanted  to  get  out  a book  jointly,  he  to  write  the  book  and 
I to  write  the  advertisements.  I turned  him  down.  I wasn’t 
going  to  do  all  the  literary  work.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


35 


At  a London  dinner  recently  the  conversation  turned  to  the 
various  methods  of  working  employed  by  literary  geniuses. 
Among  the  examples  cited  was  that  of  a well-known  poet,  who, 
it  is  said,  was  wont  to  arouse  his  wife  about  four  o’clock  in  the 
morning  and  exclaim,  “Maria,  get  up;  I’ve  thought  of  a good 
word ! ” Whereupon  the  poet’s  obedient  helpmate  would  crawl 
out  of  bed  and  make  a note  of  the  thought-of  word. 

About  an  hour  later,  like  as  not,  a new  inspiration  would  seize 
the  bard,  whereupon  he  would  again  arouse  his  wife,  saying, 
“Maria,  Maria,  get  up  ! I’ve  thought  of  a better  word ! ” 

The  company  in  general  listened  to  the  story  with  admiration, 
but  a merry-eyed  American  girl  remarked : “Well,  if  he’d  been 

my  husband  I should  have  replied,  ‘Alpheus,  get  up  yourself ; I’ve 
thought  of  a bad  word !’  ” 

“There  is  probably  no  hell  for  authors  in  the  next  world — 
they  suffer  so  much  from  critics  and  publishers  in  this.” — Bovee. 

A thought  upon  my  forehead, 

My  hand  up  to  my  face; 

I want  to  be  an  author, 

An  air  of  studied  grace ! 

I want  to  be  an  author, 

With  genius  on  my  brow; 

I want  to  be  an  author, 

And  I want  to  be  it  now ! 

— Ella  Hutchison  Ellwanger. 

That  writer  does  the  most,  who  gives  his  reader  the  most 
knowledge,  and  takes  from  him  the  least  time. — C.  C.  Colton. 

Habits  of  close  attention,  thinking  heads, 

Become  more  rare  as  dissipation  spreads, 

Till  authors  hear  at  length  one  general  cry 
Tickle  and  entertain  us,  or  we  die! 

— Cowper. 

The  author  who  speaks  about  his  own  books  is  almost  as  bad 
as  a mother  who  talks  about  her  own  children—  Disraeli. 


36 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


AUTOMOBILES 

Teacher — “If  a man  saves  $2  a week,  how  long  will  it  take 
him  to  save  a thousand  ? ” 

Boy — “He  never  would,  ma’am.  After  he  got  $900  he’d  buy  a 

>> 

car. 

“How  fast  is  your  car,  Jimpson?”  asked  Harkaway. 

“Well,’,  said  Jimpson,  “it  keeps  about  six  months  ahead  of  my 
income  generally.” 

“What  is  the  name  of  your  automobile?  ” 

“I  don’t  know.” 

“You  don’t  know?  What  do  your  folks  call  it?” 

“Oh,  as  to  that,  father  always  says  ‘The  Mortgage’;  brother 
Tom  calls  it  ‘The  Fake’;  mother,  ‘My  Limousine’;  sister,  ‘Our 
Car’ ; grandma,  ‘That  Peril’ ; the  chauffeur,  ‘Some  Freak,’  and 
our  neighbors,  ‘The  Limit.’  ” — Life. 

“What  little  boy  can  tell  me  the  difference  between  the  ‘quick’ 
and  the  ‘dead?’”  asked  the  Sunday-school  teacher. 

Willie  waved  his  hand  frantically. 

“Well,  Willie?” 

“Please,  ma’am,  the  ‘quick’  are  the  ones  that  get  out  of  the 
way  of  automobiles ; the  ones  that  don’t  are  the  ‘dead.’  ” 

“Do  you  have  much  trouble  with  your  automobile?” 

“Trouble!  Say,  I couldn’t  have  more  if  I was  married  to 
the  blamed  machine.” 

A little  “Brush”  chugged  painfully  up  to  the  gate  of  a race 
track. 

The  gate-keeper,  demanding  the  usual  fee  for  automobiles, 
called : 

“A  dollar  for  the  car ! ” 

The  owner  looked  up  with  a pathetic  smile  of  relief  and 
said  : 

“Soldi” 

Autos  rush  in  where  mortgages  have  dared  to  tread. 

See  also  Fords;  Profanity. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


37 


AUTOMOBILING 

“Sorry,  gentlemen,1 ” said  the  new  constable,  “but  I’ll  hev  to 
run  ye  in.  We  been  keepin’  tabs  on  ye  sence  ye  left  Huckle- 
berry Corners.” 

“Why,  that’s  nonsense ! ” said  Dubbleigh.  “It’s  taken  us  four 
hours  to  come  twenty  miles,  thanks  to  a flabby  tire.  That’s  only 
five  miles  an  hour.” 

“Sure ! ” said  the  new  constable,  “but  the  speed  law  round 
these  here  parts  is  ten  mile  an  hour,  and  by  Jehosophat  I’m 
goin’  to  make  you  ottermobile  fellers  live  up  to  it.” 

Two  street  pedlers  in  Bradford,  England,  bought  a horse  for 
$11.25.  It  was  killed  by  a motor-car  one  day  and  the  owner  of 
the  car  paid  them  $115  for  the  loss.  Thereupon  a new  industry 
sprang  up  on  the  roads  of  England. 

“It  was  very  romantic,”  says  the  friend.  “He  proposed  to 
her  in  the  automobile.” 

“Yes?”  we  murmur,  encouragingly. 

“And  she  accepted  him  in  the  hospital.” 

“What  you  want  to  do  is  to  have  that  mudhole  in  the  road 
fixed,”  said  the  visitor. 

“That  goes  to  show,”  replied  Farmer  Corntassel,  “how  little 
you  reformers  understand  local  conditions.  I’ve  purty  nigh  paid 
off  a mortgage  with  the  money  I made  haulin’  automobiles  out  o’ 
that  mud-hole.” 

The  old  lady  from  the  country  and  her  small  son  were  driv- 
ing to  town  when  a huge  automobile  bore  down  upon  them. 
The  horse  was  badly  frightened  and  began  to  prance,  where- 
upon the  old  lady  leaped  down  and  waved  wildly  to  the  chauf- 
feur, screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

The  chauffeur  stopped  the  car  and  offered  to  help  get  the 
horse  past. 

“That’s  all  right,”  said  the  boy,  who  remained  composedly  in 
the  carriage,  “I  can  manage  the  horse.  You  just  lead  Mother 
past.” 


38 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“What  makes  you  carry  that  horrible  shriek  machine  for  an 
automobile  signal  ? ” 

“For  humane  reasons,”  replied  Mr.  Chuggins.  “If  I can 
paralyze  a person  with  fear  he  will  keep  still  and  I can  run  to 
one  side  of  him.,, 

In  certain  sections  of  West  Virginia  there  is  no  liking  for 
automobilists,  as  was  evidenced  in  the  case  of  a Washingtonian 
who  was  motoring  in  a sparsely  settled  region  of  the  State. 

This  gentleman  was  haled  before  a local  magistrate  upon 
the  complaint  of  a constable.  The  magistrate,  a good-natured 
man,  was  not,  however,  absolutely  certain  that  the  Washing- 
tonian’s car  had  been  driven  too  fast;  and  the  owner  stoutly 
insisted  that  he  had  been  progressing  at  the  rate  of  only  six 
miles  an  hour. 

“Why,  your  Honor,”  he  said,  “my  engine  was  out  of  order, 
and  I was  going  very  slowly  because  I was  afraid  it  would  break 
down  completely.  I give  you  my  word,  sir,  you  could  have 
walked  as  fast  as  I was  running.” 

“Well,”  said  the  magistrate,  after  due  reflection,  “you  don’t 
appear  to  have  been  exceeding  the  speed  limit,  but  at  the  same 
time  you  must  have  been  guilty  of  something,  or  you  wouldn’t 
be  here.  I fine  you  ten  dollars  for  loitering.” — Fenimore  Martin. 


AVIATION 

The  aviator’s  wife  was  taking  her  first  trip  with  her  husband 
in  his  airship.  “Wait  a minute,  George,”  she  said.  “I’m  afraid 
we  will  have  to  go  down  again.” 

“What’s  wrong?”  asked  her  husband. 

“I  believe  I have  dropped  one  of  the  pearl  buttons  off  my 
jacket.  I think  I can  see  it  glistening  on  the  ground.” 

“Keep  your  seat,  my  dear,”  said  the  aviator,  “that’s  Lake 
Erie.” 

Aviator  (to  young  assistant,  who  has  begun  to  be  fright- 
ened)— “Well,  what  do  you  want  now?” 

Assistant  (whimpering) — “I  want  the  earth.” — Abbie  C. 
Dixon. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


39 


When  Claude  Grahame-White  the  famous  aviator,  author  of 
“The  Aeroplane  in  War,”  was  in  this  country  not  long  ago,  he 
was  spending  a week-end  at  a country  home.  He  tells  the 
following  story  of  an  incident  that  was  very  amusing  to  him. 

“The  first  night  that  I arrived,  a dinner  party  was  given. 
Feeling  very  enthusiastic  over  the  recent  flights,  I began  to  tell 
the  young  woman  who  was  my  partner  at  the  table  of  some  of 
the  details  of  the  aviation  sport. 

“It  was  not  until  the  dessert  was  brought  on  that  I realized 
that  I had  been  doing  all  the  talking;  indeed,  the  young  woman 
seated  next  me  had  not  uttered  a single  word  since  I first  began 
talking  about  aviation.  Perhaps  she  was  not  interested  in  the 
subject,  I thought,  although  to  an  enthusiast  like  me  it  seemed 
quite  incredible. 

“ T am  afraid  I have  been  boring  you  with  this  shop  talk,’ 
I said,  feeling  as  if  I should  apologize. 

“ ‘Oh,  not  at  all/  she  murmured,  in  very  polite  tones ; ‘but 
would  you  mind  telling  me,  what  is  aviation?’  ” — M.  A.  Hitchcock. 

AVIATORS 

Little  drops  in  water — 

Little  drops  on  land — 

Make  the  aviator, 

Join  the  heavenly  band. 

— Satire. 


“Are  you  an  experienced  aviator?” 

“Well,  sir,  I have  been  at  it  six  weeks  and  I am  all  here.” 

—Life. 

BABIES 

See  Children. 

BACCALAUREATE  SERMONS 

Proud  Father — “Rick,  my  boy,  if  you  live  up  to  your  oration 
you’ll  be  an  honor  to  the  family.” 

Valedictorian— “I  expect  to  do  better  than  that,  father.  I 
am  going  to  try  to  live  up  to  the  baccalaureate  sermon.” 


40 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


BACTERIA 

There  once  were  some  learned  M.  D/s, 

Who  captured  some  germs  of  disease, 

And  infected  a train 
Which,  without  causing  pain, 

Allowed  one  to  catch  it  with  ease. 

Two  doctors  met  in  the  hall  of  the  hospital. 

“Well,”  said  the  first,  “what’s  new  this  morning?  ” 

“I’ve  got  a most  curious  case.  Woman,  cross-eyed;  in  fact, 
so  cross-eyed  that  when  she  cries  the  tears  run  down  her  back.” 

“What  are  you  doing  for  her?  ” 

“Just  now,”  was  the  answer,  “we’re  treating  her  for  bac- 
teria.” 

BADGES 

Mrs.  Philpots  came  panting  downstairs  on  her  way  to  the 
temperance  society  meeting.  She  was  a short,  plump  woman. 
“Addie,  run  up  to  my  room  and  get  my  blue  ribbon  rosette, 
the  temperance  badge,”  she  directed  her  maid.  “I  have  for- 
gotten it.  You  will  know  it,  Addie — blue  ribbon  and  gold 
lettering.” 

“Yas’m,  I knows  it  right  well.”  Addie  could  not  read,  but 
she  knew  a blue  ribbon  with  gold  lettering  when  she  saw  it, 
and  therefore  had  not  trouble  in  finding  it  and  fastening  it 
properly  on  the  dress  of  her  mistress. 

At  the  meeting  Mrs.  Philpots  was  too  busy  greeting  her 
friends  to  note  that  they  smiled  when  they  shook  hands  with 
her.  When  she  reached  home  supper  was  served,  so  she  went 
directly  to  the  dining-room,  where  the  other  members  of  the 
family  were  seated. 

“Gracious  me,  Mother !”  exclaimed  her  son : “that  blue  rib- 
bon— you  haven’t  been  wearing  that  at  the  temperance  meet- 
ing?” 

A loud  laugh  went  up  on  all  sides. 

“Why,  what  is  it,  Harry?”  asked  the  good  woman,  clutch- 
ing at  the  ribbon  in  surprise. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


4i 


“Why,  Mother  dear,  didn’t  you  know  that  was  the  ribbon  I 
won  at  the  show?,, 

The  gold  lettering  on  the  ribbon  read : 

Interstate  Poultry  Show 

First  Prize  Bantam 


BAGGAGE 

An  Aberdonian  went  to  spend  a few  days  in  London  with  his 
son,  who  had  done  exceptionally  well  in  the  great  metropolis. 
After  their  first  greetings  at  King’s  Cross  Station,  the  young  fel- 
low remarked : “Feyther,  you  are  not  lookin’  week  Is  there 

anything  the  matter?”  The  old  man  replied,  “Aye,  lad,  I 
have  had  quite  an  accident.”  “What  was  that,  feyther?” 
“Mon,”  he  said,  “on  this  journey  frae  bonnie  Scotland  I lost  my 
luggage.”  “Dear,  dear,  that’s  too  bad ; ’00  did  it  happen  ? ” 

“Awed”  replied  the  Aberdonian,  “the  cork  cam’  oot.” 

Johnnie  Poe,  one  of  the  famous  Princeton  football  family, 
and  incidentally  a great-nephew  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  was  a 
general  in  the  army  of  Honduras  in  one  of  their  recent  wars. 
Finally,  when  things  began  to  look  black  with  peace  and  the 
American  general  discovered  that  his  princely  pay  when  trans- 
lated into  United  States  money  was  about  sixty  cents  a day,  he 
struck  for  the  coast.  There  he  found  a United  States  warship 
and  asked  transportation  home. 

“Sure,”  the  commander  told  him.  “We’ll  be  glad  to  have 
you.  Come  aboard  whenever  you  like  and  bring  your  luggage.” 

“Thanks,”  said  Poe  warmly.  “I’ll  sure  do  that.  I only  have 
fifty-four  pieces.” 

“What ! ” exclaimed  the  commander.  “What  do  you  think 
I’m  running?  A freighter?” 

“Oh,  well,  you  needn’t  get  excited  about  it,”  purred  Poe. 
“My  fifty-four  pieces  consist  of  one  pair  of  socks  and  a pack  of 
playing  cards.” 

BALDNESS 

One  mother  who  still  considers  Marcel  waves  as  the  most 
fashionable  way  of  dressing  the  hair  was  at  work  on  the  job. 


42 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Her  little  eight-year-old  girl  was  crouched  on  her  father’s 
lap,  watching  her  mother.  Every  once  in  a while  the  baby  fingers 
would  slide  over  the  smooth  and  glossy  pate  which  is  Father’s. 

“No  waves  for  you,  Father,”  remarked  the  little  one. 
“You’re  all  beach.” 


“Were  any  of  your  boyish  ambitions  ever  realized?”  asked 
the  sentimentalist. 

“Yes,”  replied  the  practical  person.  “When  my  mother  used 
to  cut  my  hair  I often  wished  I might  be  bald-headed.” 


Congressman  Longworth  is  not  gifted  with  much  hair,  his 
head  being  about  as  shiny  as  a billiard  ball. 

One  day  ex-president  Taft,  then  Secretary  of  War,  and  Con- 
gressman Longworth  sallied  into  a barbershop. 

“Hair  cut?”  asked  the  barber  of  Longworth. 

“Yes,”  answered  the  Congressman. 

“Oh,  no,  Nick,”  commented  the  Secretary  of  War  from  the 
next  chair,  “you  don’t  want  a hair  cut;  you  want  a shine.” 


“O,  Mother,  why  are  the  men  in  the  front  baldheaded  ? ” 
“They  bought  their  tickets  from  scalpers,  my  child.” 


The  costumer  came  forward  to  attend  to  the  nervous  old  beau 
who  was  mopping  his  bald  and  shining  poll  with  a big  silk 
handkerchief. 

“And  what  can  I do  for  you  ? ” he  asked. 

“I  want  a little  help  in  the  way  of  a suggestion,”  said  the 
old  fellow.  “I  intend  going  to  the  French  Students’  masquer- 
ade ball  to-night,  and  I want  a distinctly  original  costume — 
something  I may  be  sure  no  one  else  will  wear.  What  would 
you  suggest?” 

The  costumer  looked  him  over  attentively,  bestowing  special 
notice  on  the  gleaming  knob. 

“Well,  I’ll  tell  you,”  he  said  then,  thoughtfully:  “why  don’t 

you  sugar  your  head  and  go  as  a pill  ? ” — Frank  X.  Finnegan. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


43 


United  States  Senator  Ollie  James,  of  Kentucky,  is  bald. 

“Does  being  bald  bother  you  much?”  a candid  friend  asked 
him  once. 

“Yes,  a little,”  answered  the  truthful  James. 

“I  suppose  you  feel  the  cold  severely  in  winter,”  went  on  the 
friend. 

“No;  it’s  not  that  so  much,”  said  the  Senator.  “The  main 
bother  is  when  I’m  washing  myself — unless  I keep  my  hat  on  I 
don’t  know  where  my  face  stops.” 

A near-sighted  old  lady  at  a dinner-party,  one  evening,  had 
for  her  companion  on  the  left  a very  bald-headed  old  gentleman. 
While  talking  to  the  gentleman  at  her  right  she  dropped  her 
napkin  unconsciously.  The  bald-headed  gentleman,  in  stooping 
to  pick  it  up,  touched  her  arm.  The  old  lady  turned  around, 
shook  her  head,  and  very  politely  said:  “No  melon,  thank 

you.” 


BANKS  AND  BANKING 

During  a financial  panic,  a German  farmer  went  to  a bank 
for  some  money.  He  was  told  that  the  bank  was  not  paying  out 
money,  but  was  using  cashier’s  checks.  He  could  not  under- 
stand this,  and  insisted  on  money. 

The  officers  took  him  in  hand,  one  after  another,  with  little 
effect.  At  last  the  president  tried  his  hand,  and  after  long  and 
minute  explanation,  some  inkling  of  the  situation  seemed  to  be 
dawning  on  the  farmer’s  mind.  Much  encouraged,  the  president 
said:  “You  understand  now  how  it  is,  don’t  you,  Mr. 

Schmidt?  ” 

“I  t’ink  I do,”  admitted  Mr.  Schmidt.  “It’s  like  dis,  aindt  it? 
Ven  my  baby  vakes  up  at  night  and  vants  some  milk,  I gif  him 
a milk  ticket.” 

She  advanced  to  the  paying  teller’s  window  and,  handing  in 
a check  for  fifty  dollars,  stated  that  it  was  a birthday  present 
from  her  husband  and  asked  for  payment.  The  teller  informed 
her  that  she  must  first  endorse  it. 

“I  don’t  know  what  you  mean,”  she  said  hesitatingly. 


44 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Why,  you  see,”  he  explained,  “you  must  write  your  name 
on  the  back,  so  that  when  we  return  the  check  to  your  husband, 
he  will  know  we  have  paid  you  the  money/* 

“Oh,  is  that  all  ? **  she  said,  relieved.  . . . One  minute 
elapses. 

Thus  the  “endorsement** : “Many  thanks,  dear,  I’ve  got  the 

money.  Your  loving  wife,  Evelyn.** 

Friend — “So  you’re  going  to  make  it  hot  for  that  fellow  who 
held  up  the  bank,  shot  the  cashier,  and  got  away  with  the  ten 
thousand?  ” 

Banker — “Yes,  indeed.  He  was  entirely  too  fresh.  There’s 
a decent  way  to  do  that,  you  know.  If  he  wanted  to  get  the 
money,  why  didn’t  he  come  into  the  bank  and  work  his  way  up 
the  way  the  rest  of  us  did?  ” — Puck. 

BAPTISM 

A revival  was  being  held  at  a small  colored  Baptist  church 
in  southern  Georgia.  At  one  of  the  meetings  the  evangelist, 
after  an  earnest  but  fruitless  exhortation,  requested  all  of  the 
congregation  who  wanted  their  souls  washed  white  as  snow  to 
stand  up.  One  old  darky  remained  sitting. 

“Don’  yo’  want  y’  soul  washed  w’ite  as  snow,  Brudder 
Jones?  ** 

“Mah  soul  done  been  washed  w’ite  as  snow,  pahson.” 

“Whah  wuz  yo’  soul  washed  w’ite  as  snow,  Brudder  Jones?  ” 

“Over  yander  to  the  Methodis’  chu’ch  acrost  de  railroad.” 

“Brudder  Jones,  yo’  soul  wa’n’t  washed — hit  were  dry- 
cleaned.” — Life . 


BAPTISTS 

An  old  colored  man  first  joined  the  Episcopal  Church,  then 
the  Methodist  and  next  the  Baptist,  where  he  remained.  Ques- 
tioned as  to  the  reason  for  his  church  travels  he  responded : 
“Well,  suh,  hit’s  this  way:  de  ’Piscopals  is  gemmen,  suh, 
but  I couldn’t  keep  up  wid  de  answerin’  back  in  dey  church. 
De  Methodis’,  dey  always  holdin’  inquiry  meetin*,  and  I don’t 
like  too  much  inquirin’  into.  But  de  Baptis’,  suh,  dey  jes’  dip 
and  are  done  wid  hit.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


45 


A Methodist  negro  exhorter  shouted:  “Come  up  en  jine  de 

army  ob  de  Lohd.”  “I’se  done  jined,,,  replied  one  of  the  con- 
gregation. “Whar’d  yoh  jine?”  asked  the  exhorter.  “In  de 
Baptis’  Chu’ch.”  “Why,  chile,”  said  the  exhorter,  “yoh  ain’t 
in  the  army;  yoh’s  in  de  navy.” 

BARGAINS 

Manager  (five-and-ten-cent  store) — “What  did  the  lady  who 
just  went  out  want?  ” 

Shopgirl — “She  inquired  if  we  had  a shoe  department.” 

“Hades,”  said  the  lady  who  loves  to  shop,  “would  be  a 
magnificent  and  endless  bargain  counter  and  I looking  on  with- 
out a cent.” 

Newell  Dwight  Hillis,  the  now  famous  New  York  preacher 
and  author,  some  years  ago  took  charge  of  the  First  Presby- 
terian Church  of  Evanston,  Illinois.  Shortly  after  going  there 
he  required  the  services  of  a physician,  and  on  the  advice  of  one 
of  his  parishioners  called  in  a doctor  noted  for  his  ability 
properly  to  emphasize  a good  story,  but  who  attended  church 
very  rarely.  He  proved  very  satisfactory  to  the  young  preacher, 
but  for  some  reason  could  not  be  induced  to  render  a bill. 
Finally  Dr.  Hillis,  becoming  alarmed  at  the  inroads  the  bill  might 
make  in  his  modest  stipend,  went  to  the  physician  and  said,  “See 
here,  Doctor,  I must  know  how  much  I owe  you.” 

After  some  urging,  the  physician  replied : “Well,  I’ll  tell 

you  what  I’ll  do  with  you,  Hillis.  They  say  you’re  a pretty 
good  preacher,  and  you  seem  to  think  I am  a fair  doctor,  so  I’ll 
make  this  bargain  with  you.  I’ll  do  all  I can  to  keep  you  out  of 
heaven  if  you  do  all  you  can  to  keep  me  out  of  hell,  and  it  won’t 
cost  either  of  us  a cent.  Is  it  a go?” 

“My  wife  and  myself  are  trying  to  get  up  a list  of  club  maga- 
zines. By  taking  three  you  get  a discount.” 

“How  are  you  making  out?  ” 

“Well,  we  can  get  one  that  I don’t  want,  and  one  that  she 
doesn’t  want,  and  one  that  neither  wants  for  $2.25.” 


46 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


BASEBALL 

A run  in  time  saves  the  nine. 

Knowin’  all  ’bout  baseball  is  jist  ’bout  as  profitable  as  bein’  a 
good  whittler. — Abe  Martin. 

“Plague  take  that  girl ! ” 

“My  friend,  that  is  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  this  town.” 

“That  may  be.  But  she  obstructs  my  view  of  second  base.” 

When  Miss  Cheney,  one  of  the  popular  teachers  in  the 
Swarthmore  schools,  had  to  deal  with  a boy  who  played 
“hookey,”  she  failed  to  impress  him  with  the  evil  of  his  ways. 

“Don’t  you  know  what  becomes  of  little  boys  who  stay  away 
from  school  to  play  baseball?”  asked  Miss  Cheney. 

“Yessum,”  replied  the  lad  promptly.  “Some  of  ’em  gets  to 
be  good  players  and  pitch  in  the  big  leagues.” 

BATHS  AND  BATHING 

The  only  unoccupied  room  in  the  hotel — one  with  a private 
bath  in  connection  with  it — was  given  to  the  stranger  from 
Kansas.  The  next  morning  the  clerk  was  approached  by  the 
guest  when  the  latter  was  ready  to  check  out. 

“Well,  did  you  have  a good  night’s  rest?”  the  clerk  asked. 

“No,  I didn’t,”  replied  the  Kansan.  “The  room  was  all  right, 
and  the  bed  was  pretty  good,  but  I couldn’t  sleep  very  much  for 
I was  afraid  some  one  would  want  to  take  a bath,  and  the  only 
door  to  it  was  through  my  room.” 

Rural  Constable — “Now  then,  come  out  o’  that.  Bathing’s 
not  allowed  ’ere  after  8 a.  m.” 

The  Face  in  the  Water — “Excuse  me,  Sergeant,  I’m  not 
bathing;  I’m  only  drowning.” — Punch. 

A woman  and  her  brother  lived  alone  in  the  Scotch  High- 
lands. She  knitted  gloves  and  garments  to  sell  in  the  Lowland 
towns.  Once  when  she  was  starting  out  to  market  her  wares, 
her  brother  said  he  would  go  with  her  and  take  a dip  in  the 


TO  AST  EFTS  HANDBOOK 


47 


ocean.  While  the  woman  was  in  the  town  selling  her  work, 
Sandy  was  sporting  in  the  waves.  When  his  sister  came  down 
to  join  him,  however,  he  met  her  with  a wry  face.  “Oh, 
Kirstie,”  he  said,  “I’ve  lost  me  weskit.”  They  hunted  high 
and  low,  but  finally  as  night  settled  down  decided  that  the  waves 
must  have  carried  it  out  to  sea. 

The  next  year,  at  about  the  same  season,  the  two  again  visited 
the  town.  And  while  Kirstie  sold  her  wool  in  the  town,  Sandy 
splashed  about  in  the  brine.  When  Kirstie  joined  her  brother 
she  found  him  with  a radiant  face,  and  he  cried  out  to  her,  “Oh, 
Kirstie,  Tve  found  me  weskit.  ’Twas  under  me  shirt.” 

In  one  of  the  lesser  Indian  hill  wars  an  English  detachment 
took  an  Afghan  prisoner.  The  Afghan  was  very  dirty.  Ac- 
cordingly two  privates  were  deputed  to  strip  and  wash  him. 

The  privates  dragged  the  man  to  a stream  of  running  water, 
undressed  him,  plunged  him  in,  and  set  upon  him  lustily  with 
stiff  brushes  and  large  cakes  of  white  soap. 

After  a long  time  one  of  the  privates  came  back  to  make  a 
report.  He  saluted  his  officer  and  said  disconsolately: 

“It’s  no  use,  sir.  It’s  no  use.” 

“No  use?”  said  the  officer.  “What  do  you  mean?  Haven’t 
you  washed  that  Afghan  yet?” 

“It’s  no  use,  sir,”  the  private  repeated.  “We’ve  washed 
him  for  two  hours,  but  it’s  no  use.” 

“How  do  you  mean  it’s  no  use?”  said  the  officer  angrily. 

“Why,  sir,”  said  the  private,  “after  rubbin’  him  and  scrub- 
bin’  him  till  our  arms  ached  I’ll  be  hanged  if  we  didn’t  come  to 
another  suit  of  clothes.” 


BAZARS 

Once  upon  a time  a deacon  who  did  not  favor  church  bazars 
was  going  along  a dark  street  when  a footpad  suddenly  ap- 
peared, and,  pointing  his  pistol,  began  to  relieve  his  victim  of 
his  money. 

The  thief,  however,  apparently  suffered  some  pangs  of  re- 
morse. “It’s  pretty  rough  to  be  gone  through  like  this,  ain’t  it, 
sir?”  he  inquired. 


48 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Oh,  that’s  all  right,  my  man,”  the  “held-up”  one  answered 
cheerfully.  “I  was  on  my  way  to  a bazar.  You’re  first,  and 
there’s  an  end  of  it.” 


BEARDS 

There  was  an  old  man  with  a beard, 

Who  said,  “It  is  just  as  I feared! — 

Two  owls  and  a hen, 

Four  larks  and  a wren, 

Have  all  built  their  nests  in  my  beard.” 

BEAUTY 

If  eyes  were  made  for  seeing, 

Then  beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being. 

— Emerson. 

A thing  of  beauty  is  a joy  forever; 

Its  loveliness  increases ; it  will  never 
Pass  into  nothingness;  but  still  will  keep 
A bower  quiet  for  us,  and  a sleep 

Full  of  sweet  dreams,  and  health,  and  quiet  breathing. 


BEAUTY,  PERSONAL 

In  good  looks  I am  not  a star. 

There  are  others  more  lovely  by  far. 

But  my  face — I don’t  mind  it, 

Because  I’m  behind  it — 

It’s  the  people  in  front  that  I jar. 

“Shine  yer  boots,  sir?  ” 

“No,”  snapped  the  man. 

“Shine  ’em  so’s  yer  can  see  yer  face  in  ’em  ? ” urged  the 
bootblack. 

“No,  I tell  you ! ” 

“Coward,”  hissed  the  bootblack. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


49 


A farmer  returning  home  late  at  night,  found  a man  stand- 
ing beside  the  house  with  a lighted  lantern  in  his  hand.  “What 
are  you  doing  here  ? ” he  asked,  savagely,  suspecting  he  had 
caught  a criminal.  For  answer  came  a chuckle,  and — “It’s  only 
mee,  zur.” 

The  farmer  recognized  John,  his  shepherd. 

“It’s  you,  John,  is  it?  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  here  this 
time  o’  night  ? ” 

Another  chuckle.  “Fm  a-coortin’  Ann,  zur.” 

“And  so  you’ve  come  courting  with  a lantern,  you  fool.  Why 
I never  took  a lantern  when  I courted  your  mistress.” 

“No,  zur,  you  didn’t,  zur,”  John  chuckled.  “We  can  all  zee 
you  didn’t,  zur.” 

The  senator  and  the  major  were  walking  up  the  avenue. 
The  senator  was  more  than  middle-aged  and  considerably  more 
than  fat,  and,  dearly  as  the  major  loved  him,  he  also  loved  his 
joke. 

The  senator  turned  with  a pleased  expression  on  his  benign 
countenance  and  said,  “Major,  did  you  see  that  pretty  girl  smile 
at  me?  ” 

“Oh,  that’s  nothing,”  replied  his  friend.  “The  first  time  I 
saw  you  I laughed  out  loud ! ” — Harper's  Magazine. 

Pat,  thinking  to  enliven  the  party,  stated,  with  watch  in  hand : 
“I’ll  presint  a box  of  candy  to  the  loidy  that  makes  the  home- 
liest face  within  the  next  three  minutes.” 

The  time  expired,  Pat  announced : “Ah,  Mrs.  McGuire,  you 
get  the  prize.” 

“But,”  protested  Mrs.  McGuire,  “go  way  wid  ye!  I wasn’t 
playin’  at  all.” 

Arthur — “They  say  dear,  that  people  who  live  together  get 
to  look  alike.” 

Kate — “Then  you  must  consider  my  refusal  as  final.” 

In  the  negro  car  of  a railway  train  in  one  of  the  gulf  states 
a bridal  couple  were  riding — a very  light,  rather  good  looking 
colored  girl  and  a typical  full  blooded  negro  of  possibly  a re- 


50 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


verted  type,  with  receding  forehead,  protruding  eyes,  broad,  flat 
nose  very  thick  lips  and  almost  no  chin.  He  was  positively  and 
aggressively  ugly. 

They  had  been  married  just  before  boarding  the  train  and, 
like  a good  many  of  their  white  brothers  and  sisters,  were  very 
much  interested  in  each  other,  regardless  of  the  amusement 
of  their  neighbors.  After  various  “billings  and  cooings”  the 
man  sank  down  in  the  seat  and,  resting  his  head  on  the  lady’s 
shoulder,  looked  soulfully  up  into  her  eyes. 

She  looked  fondly  down  upon  him  and  after  a few  minutes 
murmured  gently,  “Laws,  honey,  ain’t  yo’  shamed  to  be  so 
ban’some?  ” 


Little  dabs  of  powder, 

Little  specks  of  paint, 

Make  my  lady’s  freckles 
Look  as  if  they  ain’t. 

— Mary  A.  Fairchild. 


He  kissed  her  on  the  cheek, 

It  seemed  a harmless  frolic; 

He’s  been  laid  up  a week 
They  say,  with  painter’s  colic. 

—The  Christian  Register. 

Mother  (to  inquisitive  child) — “Stand  aside.  Don’t  you  see 
the  gentleman  wants  to  take  the  lady’s  picture  ? ” 

“Why  does  he  want  to  ? ” — Life. 


One  day,  while  walking  with  a friend  in  San  Francisco,  a 
professor  and  his  companion  became  involved  in  an  argument 
as  to  which  was  the  handsomer  man  of  the  two.  Not  being  able 
to  arrive  at  a settlement  of  the  question,  they  agreed,  in  a spirit 
of  fun,  to  leave  it  to  the  decision  of  a Chinaman  who  was  seen 
approaching  them.  The  matter  being  laid  before  him,  the 
Oriental  considered  long  and  carefully;  then  he  announced  in 
a tone  of  finality,  “Both  are  worse.” 


TO  AST  ER’S  HANDBOOK 


5i 


“What  a homely  woman !” 

“Sir,  that  is  my  wife.  I’ll  have  you  understand  it  is  a wom- 
an’s privilege  to  be  ‘homely/’ 

“Gee,  then  she  abused  the  privilege.” 

Beauty  is  worse  than  wine ; it  intoxicates  both  the  holder  and 
the  beholder. — Zimmermann. 

BEDS 

A western  politician  tells  the  following  story  as  illustrating 
the  inconveniences  attached  to  campaigning  in  certain  sections 
of  the  country. 

Upon  his  arrival  at  one  of  the  small  towns  in  South  Dakota, 
where  he  was  to  make  a speech  the  following  day,  he  found 
that  the  so-called  hotel  was  crowded  to  the  doors.  Not  having 
telegraphed  for  accommodations,  the  politician  discovered  that 
he  would  have  to  make  shift  as  best  he  could.  Accordingly,  he 
was  obliged  for  that  night  to  sleep  on  a wire  cot  which  had 
only  some  blankets  and  a sheet  on  it.  As  the  politician  is  an 
extremely  fat  man,  he  found  his  improvised  bed  anything  but 
comfortable. 

“How  did  you  sleep?”  asked  a friend  in  the  morning. 

“Fairly  well,”  answered  the  fat  man,  “but  I looked  like  a 
waffle  when  I got  up.” 


BEER 

A man  to  whom  illness  was  chronic, 

When  told  that  he  needed  a tonic, 

Said,  “O  Doctor  dear, 

Won’t  you  please  make  it  beer?” 

“No,  no,”  said  the  Doc.,  “that’s  Teutonic.” 

BEES 

Teacher — “Tommy,  do  you  know  ‘How  Doth  the  Little  Busy 
Bee’?” 

Tommy — “No;  I only  know  he  doth  it!” 


52 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


BEETLES 

Now  doth  the  frisky  June  Bug 
Bring  forth  his  aeroplane, 

And  try  to  make  a record, 

And  busticate  his  brain ! 

He  bings  against  the  mirror, 

He  bangs  against  the  door, 

He  caroms  on  the  ceiling, 

And  turtles  on  the  floor! 

He  soars  aloft,  erratic, 

He  lands  upon  my  neck, 

And  makes  me  creep  and  shiver, 

A neurasthenic  wreck! 

— Charles  Irvin  Junkin. 


BEGGING 

The  “ Angel"  (about  to  give  a beggar  a dime) — “Poor  man! 
And  are  you  married  ?” 

Beggar — “Pardon  me,  madam ! D’ye  think  I’d  be  relyin’  on 
total  strangers  for  support  if  I had  a wife?” 

Man — “Is  there  any  reason  why  I should  give  you  five 
cents?” 

Boy — “Well,  if  I had  a nice  high  hat  like  yours  I wouldn’t 
want  it  soaked  with  snowballs.” 

Millionaire  (to  ragged  beggar) — “You  ask  alms  and  do  not 
even  take  your  hat  off.  Is  that  the  proper  way  to  beg?” 

Beggar — “Pardon  me,  sir.  A policeman  is  looking  at  us  from 
across  the  street.  If  I take  my  hat  off  he’ll  arrest  me  for  beg- 
ging; as  it  is,  he  naturally  takes  us  for  old  friends.” 

Once,  while  Bishop  Talbot,  the  giant  “cowboy  bishop,”  was 
attending  a meeting  of  church  dignitaries  in  St.  Paul,  a tramp 
accosted  a group  of  churchmen  in  the  hotel  porch  and  asked  for 
aid. 

“No,”  one  of  them  told  him,  “I’m  afraid  we  can’t  help  you. 
But  you  see  that  big  man  over  there?”  pointing  to  Bishop  Talbot. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


53 


“Well,  he’s  the  youngest  bishop  of  us  all,  and  he’s  a very  gen- 
erous man.  You  might  try  him.” 

The  tramp  approached  Bishop  Talbot  confidently.  The 
others  watched  with  interest.  They  saw  a look  of  surprise  come 
over  the  tramp’s  face.  The  bishop  was  talking  eagerly.  The 
tramp  looked  troubled.  And  then,  finally,  they  saw  something 
pass  from  one  hand  to  the  other.  The  tramp  tried  to  slink  past 
the  group  without  speaking,  but  one  of  them  called  to  him : 
“Well,  did  you  get  something  from  our  young  brother?” 
The  tramp  grinned  sheepishly.  “No,”  he  admitted,  “I  gave 
him  a dollar  for  his  damned  new  cathedral  at  Laramie!” 

To  get  thine  ends,  lay  bashfulnesse  aside; 

Who  feares  to  aske,  doth  teach  to  be  deny’d. 

— Herrick. 


Well,  whiles  I am  a beggar  I will  rail 
And  say,  there  is  no  sin  but  to  be  rich; 

And  being  rich,  my  virtue  then  shall  be 
To  say,  there  is  no  vice  but  beggary. 

— Shakespeare. 


See  also  Flattery;  Millionaires. 

BETTING 

The  officers*  mess  was  discussing  rifle  shooting. 

“T 11  bet  anyone  here,”  said  one  young  lieutenant,  “that  I 
can  fire  twenty  shots  at  two  hundred  yards  and  call  each  shot 
correctly  without  waiting  for  the  marker.  I’ll  stake  a box  of 
cigars  that  I can.” 

“Done!”  cried  a major. 

The  whole  mess  was  on  hand  early  next  morning  to  see 
the  experiment  tried. 

The  lieutenant  fired. 

“Miss,”  he  calmly  announced. 

A second  shot. 

“Miss,”  he  repeated. 

A third  shot. 


54 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Miss” 

“Here,  there!  Hold  on!”  protested  the  major.  “What  are 
you  trying  to  do?  You’re  not  shooting  for  the  target  at  all.” 
“Of  course  not,”  admitted  the  lieutenant.  “I’m  firing  for 
those  cigars.”  And  he  got  them. 


Two  old  cronies  went  into  a drug  store  in  the  downtown 
part  of  New  York  City,  and,  addressing  the  proprietor  by  his 
first  name,  one  of  them  said: 

“Dr.  Charley,  we  have  made  a bet  of  the  ice-cream  sodas. 
We  will  have  them  now  and  when  the  bet  is  decided  the  loser 
will  drop  in  and  pay  for  them.” 

As  the  two  old  fellows  were  departing  after  enjoying  their 
temperance  beverage,  the  druggist  asked  them  what  the  wager 
was. 

“Well,”  said  one  of  them,  “our  friend  George  bets  that  when 
the  tower  of  the  Singer  Building  falls,  it  will  topple  over  toward 
the  North  River,  and  I bet  that  it  won’t.” 


BIBLE  INTERPRETATION 

“Miss  Jane,  did  Moses  have  the  same  after-dinner  complaint 
my  papa’s  got?”  asked  Percy  of  his  governess. 

“Gracious  me,  Percy!  Whatever  do  you  mean,  my  dear?” 
“Well,  it  says  here  that  the  Lord  gave  Moses  two  tablets.” 


“Mr.  Preacher,”  said  a white  man  to  a colored  minister  who 
was  addressing  his  congregation,  “you  are  talking  about  Cain, 
and  you  say  he  got  married  in  the  land  of  Nod,  after  he  killed 
Abel.  But  the  Bible  mentions  only  Adam  and  Eve  as  being  on 
earth  at  that  time.  Who,  then,  did  Cain  marry?” 

The  colored  preacher  snorted  with  unfeigned  contempt. 
“Huh!”  he  said,  “you  hear  dat,  brederen  an’  sisters?  You 
hear  dat  fool  question  I am  axed?  Cain,  he  went  to  de  land 
o’  Nod  just  as  de  Good  Book  tells  us,  an’  in  de  land  o’  Nod 
Cain  gits  so  lazy  an’  so  shif’less  dat  he  up  an’  marries  a gal 
o’  one  o’  deni  no’  count  pore  white  trash  families  dat  de  in- 
spired apostle  didn’t  consider  fittin’  to  mention  in  de  Holy  Word. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


55 


BIGAMY 

There  once  was  an  old  man  of  Lyme. 
Who  married  three  wives  at  a time : 
When  asked,  “Why  a third?” 

He  replied,  “One’s  absurd! 

And  bigamy,  sir,  is  a crime.” 


BILLS 

The  proverb,  “Where  there’s  a will  there’s  a way”  is  now 
revised  to  “When  there’s  a bill  we’re  away.” 


Young  Doctor— “Why  do  you  always  ask  your  patients  what 
they  have  for  dinner?” 

Old  Doctor — “It’s  a most  important  question,  for  according 
to  their  menus  I make  out  my  bills.” 


Farmer  Gray  kept  summer  boarders.  One  of  these,  a school- 
teacher, hired  him  to  drive  her  to  the  various  points  of  inter- 
est around  the  country.  He  pointed  out  this  one  and  that, 
at  the  same  time  giving  such  items  of  information  as  he  pos- 
sessed. 

The  school-teacher,  pursing  her  lips,  remarked,  “It  will  not 
be  necessary  for  you  to  talk.” 

When  her  bill  was  presented,  there  was  a five-dollar  charge 
marked  “Extra.” 

“What  is  this?”  she  asked,  pointing  to  the  item. 

“That,”  replied  the  farmer,  “is  for  sass.  I don’t  often  take 
it,  but  when  I do  I charge  for  it.” — E.  Egbert. 


Patient  ( angrily ) — “The  size  of  your  bill  makes  my  blood 
boil.” 

Doctor — “Then  that  will  be  $20  more  for  sterilizing  your 
system.” 


56 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


At  the  bedside  of  a patient  who  was  a noted  humorist,  five 
doctors  were  in  consultation  as  to  the  best  means  of  produc- 
ing a perspiration. 

The  sick  man  overheard  the  discussion,  and,  after  listen- 
ing for  a few  moments,  he  turned  his  head  toward  the  group 
and  whispered  with  a dry  chuckle: 

“Just  send  in  your  bills,  gentlemen;  that  will  bring  it  on  at 
once” 

“Thank  Heaven,  those  bills  are  got  rid  of,”  said  Bilkins, 
fervently,  as  he  tore  up  a bundle  of  statements  of  account 
dated  October  ist. 

“All  paid,  eh?”  said  Mrs.  Bilkins. 

“Oh,  no,”  said  Bilkins.  “The  duplicates  dated  November 
ist  have  come  in  and  I don’t  have  to  keep  these  any  longer.” 

BIRTHDAYS 

When  a man  has  a birthday  he  takes  a day  off,  but  when  a 
woman  has  a birthday  she  takes  a year  off. 

BLUFFING 

Francis  Wilson,  the  comedian,  says  that  many  years  ago 
when  he  was  a member  of  a company  playing  “She  Stoops  to 
Conquer,”  a man  without  any  money,  wishing  to  see  the  show, 
stepped  up  to  the  box-office  in  a small  town  and  said : 

“Pass  me  in,  please.” 

The  box-office  man  gave  a loud,  harsh  laugh. 

“Pass  you  in?  What  for?”  he  asked. 

The  applicant  drew  himself  up  and  answered  haughtily: 

“What  for?  Why,  because  I am  Oliver  Goldsmith,  author 
of  the  play.” 

“Oh,  I beg  your  pardon,  sir,”  replied  the  box-office  man, 
as  he  hurriedly  wrote  out  an  order  for  a box. 

BLUNDERS 

An  early  morning  customer  in  an  optician’s  shop  was  a 
young  woman  with  a determined  air.  She  addressed  the  first 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


57 


salesman  she  saw.  “I  want  to  look  at  a pair  of  eyeglasses,  sir, 
of  extra  magnifying  power.” 

“Yes,  ma’am,”  replied  the  salesman;  “something  very 
strong?  ” 

“Yes,  sir.  While  visiting  in  the  country  I made  a very  pain- 
ful blunder  which  I never  want  to  repeat.” 

“Indeed ! Mistook  a stranger  for  an  acquaintance  ? ” 

“No,  not  exactly  that;  I mistook  a bumblebee  for  a black- 
berry.” 

The  ship  doctor  of  an  English  liner  notified  the  death  watch 
steward,  an  Irishman,  that  a man  had  died  in  stateroom  45.  The 
usual  instructions  to  bury  the  body  were  given.  Some  hours 
later  the  doctor  peeked  into  the  room  and  found  that  the  body 
was  still  there.  He  called  the  Irishman’s  attention  to  the  matter 
and  the  latter  replied: 

“I  thought  you  said  room  46.  I wint  to  that  room  and 
noticed  wan  of  thim  in  a bunk.  ‘Are  ye  dead?’  says  I.  ‘No,’ 
says  he,  ‘but  I’m  pretty  near  dead.’ 

“So  I buried  him.” 

Telephone  girls  sometimes  glory  in  their  mistakes  if  there  is 
a joke  in  consequence.  The  story  is  told  by  a telephone  operator 
in  one  of  the  Boston  exchanges  about  a man  who  asked  her  for 
the  number  of  a local  theater. 

He  got  the  wrong  number  and,  without  asking  to  whom  he 
was  talking,  he  said,  “Can  I get  a box  for  two  to-night?” 

A startled  voice  answered  him  at  the  other  end  of  the  line, 
“We  don’t  have  boxes  for  two.” 

“Isn’t  this  the  Theater?”  he  called  crossly. 

“Why,  no,”  was  the  answer,  “this  is  an  undertaking  shop.” 
He  canceled  his  order  for  a “box  for  two.” 

A good  Samaritan,  passing  an  apartment  house  in  the  small 
hours  of  the  morning,  noticed  a man  leaning  limply  against  the 
doorway. 

“What’s  the  matter?”  he  asked,  “Drunk?” 

“Yep.” 

“Do  you  live  in  this  house?” 

“Yep.” 


58 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Do  you  want  me  to  help  you  upstairs  ? ” 

“Yep.” 

With  much  difficulty  he  half  dragged,  half  carried  the  droop- 
ing figure  up  the  stairway  to  the  second  floor. 

“What  floor  do  you  live  on?”  he  asked.  “Is  this  it?” 

“Yep.” 

Rather  than  face  an  irate  wife  who  might,  perhaps,  take  him 
for  a companion  more  at  fault  than  her  spouse,  he  opened  the 
first  door  he  came  to  and  pushed  the  limp  figure  in. 

The  good  Samaritan  groped  his  way  downstairs  again.  As 
he  was  passing  through  the  vestibule  he  was  able  to  make  out 
the  dim  outlines  of  another  man,  apparently  in  worse  condition 
than  the  first  one. 

“What’s  the  matter  ? ” he  asked.  “Are  you  drunk,  too  ? ” 

“Yep,”  was  the  feeble  reply. 

“Do  you  live  in  this  house,  too?” 

“Yep.” 

“Shall  I help  you  upstairs?” 

“Yep.” 

The  good  Samaritan  pushed,  pulled,  and  carried  him  to  the 
second  floor,  where  this  man  also  said  he  lived.  He  opened  the 
same  door  and  pushed  him  in. 

As  he  reached  the  front  door  he  discerned  the  shadow  of  a 
third  man,  evidently  worse  off  than  either  of  the  other  two. 
He  was  about  to  approach  him  when  the  object  of  his  solicitude 
lurched  out  into  the  street  and  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of  a 
passing  policeman. 

“For  Heaven’s  sake,  off’cer,”  he  gasped,  “protect  me  from 
that  man.  He’s  done  nothin’  all  night  long  but  carry  me  up- 
stairs ’n  throw  me  down  th’  elevator  shaf\” 

There  was  a young  man  from  the  city, 

Who  met  what  he  thought  was  a kitty; 

He  gave  it  a pat, 

And  said,  “Nice  little  cat ! ” 

And  they  buried  his  clothes  out  of  pity. 

BOASTING 

Maybe  the  man  who  boasts  that  he  doesn’t  owe  a dollar  in 
the  world  couldn’t  if  he  tried. 


TO  AST  ER’S  HANDBOOK 


59 


'‘What  sort  of  chap  is  he?” 

“Well,  after  a beggar  has  touched  him  for  a dime  he'll  tell 
you  he  ‘gave  a little  dinner  to  an  acquaintance  of  his.’  ” — R.  R . 
Kirk. 

Willie — “All  the  stores  closed  on  the  day  my  uncle  died.” 

Tommy — “That’s  nothing.  All  the  banks  closed  for  three 
weeks  the  day  after  my  pa  left  town.” — Puck. 

Two  men  were  boasting  about  their  rich  kin.  Said  one : 

“My  father  has  a big  farm  in  Connecticut.  It  is  so  big  that 
when  he  goes  to  the  barn  on  Monday  morning  to  milk  the  cows 
he  kisses  us  all  good-by,  and  he  doesn’t  get  back  till  the  following 
Saturday.” 

“Why  does  it  take  him  so  long?”  the  other  man  asked. 

“Because  the  barn  is  so  far  away  from  the  house.” 

“Well,  that  may  be  a pretty  big  farm,  but  compared  to  my 
father’s  farm  in  Pennsylvania  your  father’s  farm  ain’t  no  bigger 
than  a city  lot ! ” 

“Why,  how  big  is  your  father’s  farm?” 

“Well,  it’s  so  big  that  my  father  sends  young  married  couples 
out  to  the  barn  to  milk  the  cows,  and  the  milk  is  brought  back 
by  their  grandchildren.” 


BONANZAS 

A certain  Congressman  had  disastrous  experience  in  gold- 
mine speculations.  One  day  a number  of  colleagues  were  dis- 
cussing the  subject  of  his  speculation,  when  one  of  them  said 
to  this  Western  member: 

“Old  chap,  as  an  expert,  give  us  a definition  of  the  term, 
‘bonanza.’  ” 

“A  ‘bonanza,’  ” replied  the  Western  man  with  emphasis,  “is 
a hole  in  the  ground  owned  by  a champion  liar ! ” 

BOOKKEEPING 

Tommy,  fourteen  years  old,  arrived  home  for  the  holidays, 
and  at  his  father’s  request  produced  his  account  book,  duly  kept 
at  school.  Among  the  items  “S.  P.  G.”  figured  largely  and  fre- 


6o 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


quently.  “Darling  boy,”  fondly  exclaimed  his  doting  mamma: 
“see  how  good  he  is — always  giving  to  the  missionaries.”  But 
Tommy’s  sister  knew  him  better  than  even  his  mother  did,  and 
took  the  first  opportunity  of  privately  inquiring  what  those  mystic 
letters  stood  for.  Nor  was  she  surprised  ultimately  to  find  that 
they  represented,  not  the  venerable  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel,  but  “Sundries,  Probably  Grub.” 

BOOKS  AND  READING 

Lady  President — “What  book  has  helped  you  most?” 

New  Member — “My  husband’s  check-book.” 

— Martha  Young. 

“You  may  send  me  up  the  complete  works  of  Shakespeare, 
Goethe  and  Emerson — also  something  to  read.” 

There  are  three  classes  of  bookbuyers:  Collectors,  women 

and  readers. 

The  owner  of  a large  library  solemnly  warned  a friend  against 
the  practice  of  lending  books.  To  punctuate  his  advice  he 
showed  his  friend  the  well-stocked  shelves.  “There ! ” said  he. 
“Every  one  of  those  books  was  lent  me.” 

In  science,  read,  by  preference,  the  newest  works;  in  litera- 
ture, the  oldest. — Bulwer-Lytton. 

Learning  hath  gained  most  by  those  books  by  which  the 
Printers  have  lost. — Fuller. 

Books  should  to  one  of  these  four  ends  conduce, 

For  wisdom,  piety,  delight,  or  use. 

— Sir  John  Denham. 

A darky  meeting  another  coming  from  the  library  with  a book 
accosted  him  as  follows : 

“What  book  you  done  got  there,  Rastus?” 

“ ‘Last  Days  of  Pompeii/  ” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


61 


‘'Last  days  of  Pompey?  Is  Pompey  dead?  I never  heard 
about  it.  Now  what  did  Pompey  die  of?” 

“I  don’t  ’xactly  know,  but  it  must  hab  been  some  kind  of 
’ruption.” 


“I  don’t  know  what  to  give  Lizzie  for  a Christmas  present,” 
one  chorus  girl  is  reported  to  have  said  to  her  mate  while  dis- 
cussing the  gift  to  be  made  to  a third. 

“Give  her  a book,”  suggested  the  other. 

And  the  first  one  replied  meditatively,  “No,  she’s  got  a book.” 
— Literary  Digest. 


BOOKSELLERS  AND  BOOKSELLING 


A bookseller  reports  these  mistakes  of  customers  in  sending 
orders : 


AS  ORDERED 

Lame  as  a Roble 
God’s  Image  in  Mud 
Pair  of  Saucers 
Pierre  and  His  Poodle 


CORRECT  TITLE 

Les  Miserables 
God’s  Image  in  Man 
Paracelsus 

Pierre  and  His  People 


When  a customer  in  a Boston  department  store  asked  a clerk 
for  Hichens’s  Bella  Donna , the  reply  was,  “Drug  counter,  third 
aisle  over.” 


It  was  a few  days  before  Christmas  in  one  of  New  York’s 
large  book-stores. 

Clerk — “What  is  it,  please  ? ” 

Customer — “I  would  like  Ibsen’s  A Doll’s  House.’9 
Clerk— “To  cut  out?” 


BOOKWORMS 

“A  book-worm,”  said  papa,  “is  a person  who  would  rather 
read  than  eat,  or  it  is  a worm  that  would  rather  eat  than  read.” 

BOOMERANGS 


See  Repartee;  Retaliation. 


62 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


BORES 

“What  kind  of  a looking  man  is  that  chap  Gabbleton  you 
just  mentioned?  I don’t  believe  I have  met  him.” 

“Well,  if  you  see  two  men  off  in  a corner  anywhere  and  one 
of  them  looks  bored  to  death,  the  other  is  Gabbleton.” — Puck. 

A man  who  was  a well  known  killjoy  was  described  as  a 
great  athlete.  He  could  throw  a wet  blanket  two  hundred  yards 
in  any  gathering. 

See  also  Conversation;  Husbands;  Preaching;  Public  speak- 
ers; Reformers. 

BORROWERS 

A well-known  but  broken-down  Detroit  newspaper  man,  who 
had  been  a power  in  his  day,  approached  an  old  friend  the 
other  day  in  the  Pontchartrain  Hotel  and  said : 

“What  do  you  think?  I have  just  received  the  prize  insult 
of  my  life.  A paper  down  in  Muncie,  Ind.,  offered  me  a job.” 

“Do  you  call  that  an  insult?  ” 

“Not  the  job,  but  the  salary.  They  offered  me  twelve  dollars 
a week.” 

“Well,”  said  the  friend,  “twelve  dollars  a week  is  better  than 
nothing.” 

“Twelve  a week-thunder!”  exclaimed  the  old  scribe.  “I 
can  borrow  more  than  that  right  here  in  Detroit.” — Detroit  Free 
Press . 

One  winter  morning  Henry  Clay,  finding  himself  in  need  of 
money,  went  to  the  Riggs  Bank  and  asked  for  the  loan  of  $250 
on  his  personal  note.  He  was  told  that  while  his  credit  was  per- 
fectly good,  it  was  the  inflexible  rule  of  the  bank  to  require  an 
indorser.  The  great  statesman  hunted  up  Daniel  Webster  and 
asked  him  to  indorse  the  note. 

“With  pleasure,”  said  Webster.  “But  I need  some  money 
myself.  Why  not  make  your  note  for  five  hundred,  and  you  and 
I will  split  it?” 

This  they  did.  And  to-day  the  note  is  in  the  Riggs  Bank — 
unpaid. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


63 


BOSSES 

The  insurance  agent  climbed  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

“Whom  do  you  wish  to  see?”  asked  the  careworn  person  who 
came  to  the  door. 

“I  want  to  see  the  boss  of  the  house,”  replied  the  insurance 
agent.  “Are  you  the  boss?” 

“No,”  meekly  returned  the  man  who  came  to  the  door; 
“I’m  only  the  husband  of  the  boss.  Step  in,  I’ll  call  the  boss.” 

The  insurance  agent  took  a seat  in  the  hall,  and  in  a short 
time  a tall  dignified  woman  appeared. 

“So  you  want  to  see  the  boss?”  repeated  the  woman.  “Well, 
just  step  into  the  kitchen.  This  way,  please.  Bridget,  this 
gentleman  desires  to  see  you.” 

“Me  th’  boss!”  exclaimed  Bridget,  when  the  insurance  agent 
asked  her  the  question.  “Indade  Oi’m  not!  Sure  here  comes 
th’  boss  now.” 

She  pointed  to  a small  boy  of  ten  years  who  was  coming 
toward  the  house. 

“Tell  me,”  pleaded  the  insurance  agent,  when  the  lad  came 
into  the  kitchen,  “are  you  the  boss  of  the  house?” 

“Want  to  see  the  boss?”  asked  the  boy.  “Well,  you  just 
come  with  me.” 

Wearily  the  insurance  agent  climbed  up  the  stairs.  He  was 
ushered  into  a room  on  the  second  floor  and  guided  to  the 
crib  of  a sleeping  baby. 

“There!”  exclaimed  the  boy,  “that’s  the  real  boss  of  this 
house.” 

BOSTON 

A tourist  from  the  east,  visiting  an  old  prospector  in  his 
lonely  cabin  in  the  hills,  commented:  “And  yet  you  seem  so 
cheerful  and  happy.”  “Yes,”  replied  the  one  of  the  pick  and 
shovel.  “I  spent  a week  in  Boston  once,  and  no  matter  what 
happens  to  me  now,  it  seems  good  luck  in  comparison.” 

A little  Boston  girl  with  exquisitely  long  golden  curls  and 
quite  an  angelic  appearance  in  general,  came  in  from  an  af- 
ternoon walk  with  her  nurse  and  said  to  her  mother,  “Oh,  Mam- 


64 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ma,  a strange  woman  on  the  street  said  to  me,  ‘My,  but  ain’t 
you  got  beautiful  hair  !’  ” 

The  mother  smiled,  for  the  compliment  was  well  merited, 
but  she  gasped  as  the  child  innocently  continued  her  account: 
“I  said  to  her,  ‘I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  like  my  hair,  but 
I am  sorry  to  hear  you  use  the  word  “ain’t” !’  ” — E.  R.  Bickford . 

Nan — “That  young  man  from  Boston  is  an  interesting  talk- 
er, so  far  as  you  can  understand  what  he  says;  but  what  a 
queer  dialect  he  uses.” 

Fan — “That  isn’t  dialect;  it’s  vocabulary.  Can’t  you  tell 
the  difference?” 

A Bostonian  died,  and  when  he  arrived  at  St.  Peter’s  gate 
he  was  asked  the  usual  questions: 

“What  is  your  name,  and  where  are  you  from?” 

The  answer  was,  “Mr.  So-and-So,  from  Boston.” 

“You  may  come  in,”  said  Peter,  “but  I know  you  won’t  like 
it.” 


There  was  a young  lady  from  Boston, 
A two-horned  dilemma  was  tossed  on, 
As  to  which  was  the  best, 

To  be  rich  in  the  west 
Or  poor  and  peculiar  in  Boston. 


BOXING 

John  L.  Sullivan  was  asked  why  he  had  never  taken  to 
giving  boxing  lessons. 

“Well,  son,  I tried  it  once,”  replied  Mr.  Sullivan.  “A  husky 
young  man  took  one  lesson  from  me  and  went  home  a little 
the  worse  for  wear.  When  he  came  around  for  his  second 
lesson  he  said:  ‘Mr  Sullivan,  it  was  my  idea  to  learn  enough 
about  boxing  from  you  to  be  able  to  lick  a certain  young  gentle- 
man what  I’ve  got  it  in  for.  But  I’ve  changed  my  mind,’  says 
he.  ‘If  it’s  all  the  same  to  you,  Mr.  Sullivan,  I’ll  send  this 

young  gentleman  down  here  to  take  the  rest  of  my  lessons  for 
» » 


me. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


65 


BOYS 

A certain  island  in  the  West  Indies  is  liable  to  the  period- 
ical advent  of  earthquakes.  One  year  before  the  season  of 
these  terrestrial  disturbances,  Mr.  X.,  who  lived  in  the  danger 
zone,  sent  his  two  sons  to  the  home  of  a brother  in  England, 
to  secure  them  from  the  impending  havoc. 

Evidently  the  quiet  of  the  staid  English  household  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  irruption  of  the  two  West  Indians,  for  the  re- 
turning mail  steamer  carried  a message  to  Mr.  X.,  brief  but 
emphatic : 

“Take  back  your  boys;  send  me  the  earthquake.” 

Aunt  Eliza  came  up  the  walk  and  said  to  her  small  nephew: 

“Good  morning,  Willie.  Is  your  mother  in?” 

“Sure  she’s  in,”  replied  Willie  truculently.  “D’you  s’pose  I’d 
be  workin’  in  the  garden  on  Saturday  morning  if  she  wasn’t?” 


An  iron  hoop  bounded  through  the  area  railings  of  a sub- 
urban house  and  played  havoc  with  the  kitchen  window.  The 
woman  waited,  anger  in  her  eyes,  for  the  appearance  of  the 
hoop’s  owner.  Presently  he  came. 

“Please,  I’ve  broken  your  window,”  he  said,  “and  here’s 
Father  to  mend  it.” 

And,  sure  enough,  he  was  followed  by  a stolid-looking  work- 
man, who  at  once  started  to  work,  while  the  small  boy  took 
his  hoop  and  ran  off. 

“That’ll  be  four  bits,  ma’am,”  announced  the  glazier  when 
the  window  was  whole  once  more. 

“Four  bits!”  gasped  the  woman.  “But  your  little  boy  broke 
it — the  little  fellow  with  the  hoop,  you  know.  You’re  his 
father,  aren’t  you?” 

The  stolid  man  shook  his  head. 

“Don’t  know  him  from  Adam,”  he  said.  “He  came  around 
to  my  place  and  told  me  his  mother  wanted  her  winder  fixed. 
You’re  his  mother,  aren’t  you?” 

And  the  woman  shook  her  head  also. — Ray  Trum  Nathan 


See  also  Egotism;  Employers  and  employees;  Office  boys. 


66 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


BREAKFAST  FOODS 

Pharaoh  had  just  dreamed  of  the  seven  full  and  the  seven 
blasted  ears  of  corn. 

“You  are  going  to  invent  a new  kind  of  breakfast  food,” 
interpreted  Joseph. — Judge. 


BREATH 

One  day  a teacher  was  having  a first-grade  class  in  phys- 
iology. She  asked  them  if  they  knew  that  there  was  a burn- 
ing fire  in  the  body  all  of  the  time.  One  little  girl  spoke  up 
and  said : 

“Yes’m,  when  it  is  a cold  day  I can  see  the  smoke.” 

Said  the  bibulous  gentleman  who  had  been  reading  birth  and 
death  statistics:  “Do  you  know,  James,  every  time  I breathe  a 
man  dies?” 

“Then,”  said  -J ames,  “why  don’t  you  chew  cloves  ?” 
BREVITY 

• An  after-dinner  speaker  was  called  on  to  speak  on  “The 
Antiquity  of  the  Microbe.”  He  arose  and  said,  “Adam  had  ’em,” 
and  then  sat  down. 

A negro  servant,  on  being  ordered  to  announce  visitors  to 
a dinner  party,  was  directed  to  call  out  in  a loud,  distinct 
voice  their  names.  The  first  to  arrive  was  the  Fitzgerald  fam- 
ily, numbering  eight  persons.  The  negro  announced  Major 
Fitzgerald,  Miss  Fitzgerald,  Master  Fitzgerald,  and  so  on. 

This  so  annoyed  the  master  that  he  went  to  the  negro  and 
said,  ‘‘Don’t  announce  each  person  like  that ; say  something 
shorter.” 

The  next  to  arrive  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Penny  and  their 
daughter.  The  negro  solemnly  opened  the  door  and  called  out, 
“Thrupence!” 

Dr.„  Abernethy,  the  famous  Scotch  surgeon,  was  a man  of 
few  words,  but  he  once  met  his  match — in  a woman.  She 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


6 7 


called  at  his  office  in  Edinburgh,  one  day,  with  a hand  badly 
inflamed  and  swollen.  The  following  dialogue,  opened  by  the 
doctor,  took  place. 

“Burn?” 

“Bruise.” 

“Poultice.” 

The  next  day  the  woman  called,  and  the  dialogue  was  as 
follows : 

“Better?” 

“Worse.” 

“More  poultice.” 

Two  days  later  the  woman  made  another  call. 

“Better?” 

“Well.  Fee?” 

“Nothing.  Most  sensible  woman  I ever  saw.” 


BRIBERY 

A judge,  disgusted  with  a jury  that  seemed  unable  to  reach 
an  agreement  in  a perfectly  evident  case,  rose  and  said,  “I 
discharge  this  jury.” 

One  sensitive  talesman,  indignant  at  what  he  considered  a 
rebuke,  obstinately  faced  the  judge. 

“You  can’t  discharge  me,”  he  said  in  tones  of  one  stand- 
ing upon  his  rights. 

“And  why  not?”  asked  the  surprised  judge. 

“Because,”  announced  the  juror,  pointing  to  the  lawyer  for 
the  defense,  “I’m  being  hired  by  that  man  there!” 


BRIDES 

“My  dear,”  said  the  young  husband  as  he  took  the  bottle 
of  milk  from  the  dumb-waiter  and  held  it  up  to  the  light, 
“have  you  noticed  that  there’s  never  cream  on  this  milk?” 

“I  spoke  to  the  milkman  about  it,”  she  replied,  “and  he 
explained  that  the  company  always  fill  their  bottles  so  full  that 
there’s  no  room  for  cream  on  top.” 


68 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“Do  you  think  only  of  me?”  murmured  the  bride.  “Tell  me 
that  you  think  only  of  me.” 

“It’s  this  way,”  explained  the  groom  gently.  “Now  and  then 
I have  to  think  of  the  furnace,  my  dear.” 

BRIDGE  WHIST 

“How  about  the  sermon?” 

“The  minister  preached  on  the  sinfulness  of  cheating  at 
bridge.” 

“You  don’t  say!  Did  he  mention  any  names?” 

BROOKLYN 

At  the  Brooklyn  Bridge. — “Madam,  do  you  want  to  go  to 
Brooklyn  ?” 

“No,  I have  to.”— Life. 

BRYAN,  WILLIAM  JENNINGS 

Some  time  after  the  presidential  election  of  1908,  one  of 
Champ  Clark’s  friends  noticed  that  he  still  wore  one  of  the 
Bryan  watch  fobs  so  popular  during  the  election.  On  being 
asked  the  reason  for  this,  Champ  replied:  “Oh,  that’s  to  keep 
my  watch  running.” 


BUILDINGS 

Pat  had  gone  back  home  to  Ireland  and  was  telling  about 
New  York. 

“Have  they  such  tall  buildings  in  America  as  they  say,  Pat?” 
asked  the  parish  priest. 

“Tall  buildings  ye  ask,  sur?”  replied  Pat.  “Faith,  sur,  the 
last  one  I worked  on  we  had  to  lay  on  our  stomachs  to  let 
the  moon  pass.” 


BURGLARS 

A burglar  was  one  night  engaged  in  the  pleasing  occupa- 
tion of  stowing  a good  haul  of  swag  in  his  bag  when  he  was 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


69 


startled  by  a touch  on  the  shoulder,  and,  turning  his  head,  he 
beheld  a venerable,  mild-eyed  clergyman  gazing  sadly  at  him. 

“Oh,  my  brother,”  groaned  the  reverend  gentleman,  “wouldst 
thou  rob  me?  Turn,  I beseech  thee — turn  from  thy  evil  ways. 
Return  those  stolen  goods  and  depart  in  peace,  for  I am  merciful 
and  forgive.  Begone ! ” 

And  the  burglar,  only  too  thankful  at  not  being  given  into 
custody  of  the  police,  obeyed  and  slunk  swiftly  off. 

Then  the  good  old  man  carefully  and  quietly  packed  the  swag 
into  another  bag  and  walked  softly  (so  as  not  to  disturb  the 
slumber  of  the  inmates)  out  of  the  house  and  away  into  the 
silent  night. 


BUSINESS 

A Boston  lawyer,  who  brought  his  wit  from  his  native  Dub- 
lin, while  cross-examining  the  plaintiff  in  a divorce  trial,  brought 
forth  the  following: 

“You  wish  to  divorce  this  woman  because  she  drinks?  ” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Do  you  drink  yourself?” 

“That’s  my  business ! ” angrily. 

Whereupon  the  unmoved  lawyer  asked : “Have  you  any  other 
business?  ” 

At  the  Boston  Immigration  Station  one  blank  was  recently 
filled  out  as  follows: 

Name — Abraham  Cherkowsky. 

Born — Yes. 

Business — Rotten. 


BUSINESS  ENTERPRISE 

It  happened  in  Topeka.  Three  clothing  stores  were  on  the 
same  block.  One  morning  the  middle  proprietor  saw  to  the 
right  of  him  a big  sign — “Bankrupt  Sale,”  and  to  the  left— 
“Closing  Out  at  Cost.”  Twenty  minutes  later  there  appeared 
over  his  own  door,  in  larger  letters,  “Main  Entrance.” 


70 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


In  a section  of  Washington  where  there  are  a number  of 
hotels  and  cheap  restaurants,  one  enterprising  concern  has  dis- 
played in  great  illuminated  letters,  “Open  All  Night.”  Next 
to  it  was  a restaurant  bearing  with  equal  prominence  the  leg- 
end : 

“We  Never  Close/* 

Third  in  order  was  a Chinese  laundry  in  a little,  low-framed, 
tumbledown  hovel,  and  upon  the  front  of  this  building  was  the 
sign,  in  great,  scrawling  letters : 

“Me  wakee,  too/* 

A boy  looking  for  something  to  do  saw  the  sign  “Boy 
Wanted”  hanging  outside  of  a store  in  New  York.  He  picked 
up  the  sign  and  entered  the  store. 

The  proprietor  met  him.  “What  did  you  bring  that  sign  in 
here  for?  ” asked  the  storekeeper. 

“You  won’t  need  it  any  more,”  said  the  boy  cheerfully.  “I’m 
going  to  take  the  job.” 


A Chinaman  found  his  wife  lying  dead  in  a field  one  morn- 
ing; a tiger  had  killed  her. 

The  Chinaman  went  home,  procured  some  arsenic,  and,  re- 
turning to  the  field,  sprinkled  it  over  the  corpse. 

The  next  day  the  tiger’s  dead  body  lay  beside  the  woman’s. 
The  Chinaman  sold  the  tiger’s  skin  to  a mandarin,  and  its  body 
to  a physician  to  make  fear-cure  powders,  and  with  the  proceeds 
he  was  able  to  buy  a younger  wife. 


A rather  simple-looking  lad  halted  before  a blacksmith’s  shop 
on  his  way  home  from  school  and  eyed  the  doings  of  the  pro- 
prietor with  much  interest. 

The  brawny  smith,  dissatisfied  with  the  boy’s  curiosity,  held  a 
piece  of  red-hot  iron  suddenly  under  the  youngster’s  nose,  hoping 
to  make  him  beat  a hasty  retreat. 

“If  you’ll  give  me  half  a dollar  I’ll  lick  it,”  said  the  lad. 

The  smith  took  from  his  pocket  half  a dollar  and  held  it  out. 

The  simple-looking  youngster  took  the  coin,  licked  it,  dropped 
it  in  his  pocket  and  slowly  walked  away  whistling. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


7 1 


“Do  you  know  where  Johnny  Locke  lives,  my  little  boy?” 
asked  a gentle-voiced  old  lady. 

“He  aint  home,  but  if  you  give  me  a penny  I’ll  find  him  for 
you  right  off,”  replied  the  lad. 

“All  right,  you’re  a nice  little  boy.  Now  where  is  he?” 
“Thanks— I’m  him.” 


“From  each  according  to  his  ability,  to  each  according  to  his 
need,”  would  seem  to  be  the  principle  of  the  Chinese  storekeeper 
whom  a traveler  tells  about.  The  Chinaman  asked  $2.50  for  five 
pounds  of  tea,  while  he  demanded  $7.50  for  ten  pounds  of  the 
same  brand.  His  business  philosophy  was  expressed  in  these 
words  of  explanation : “More  buy,  more  rich — more  rich,  more 

can  pay ! ” 


In  a New  York  street  a wagon  loaded  with  lamp  globes  col- 
lided with  a truck  and  many  of  the  globes  were  smashed.  Con- 
siderable sympathy  was  felt  for  the  driver  as  he  gazed  ruefully 
at  the  shattered  fragments.  A benevolent-looking  old  gentleman 
eyed  him  compassionately. 

“My  poor  man,”  he  said,  “I  suppose  you  will  have  to  make 
good  this  loss  out  of  your  own  pocket?” 

“Yep,”  was  the  melancholy  reply. 

“Well,  well,”  said  the  philanthropic  old  gentleman,  “hold  out 
your  hat — here’s  a quarter  for  you ; and  I dare  say  some  of 
these  other  people  will  give  you  a helping  hand  too.” 

The  driver  held  out  his  hat  and  several  persons  hastened  to 
drop  coins  in  it.  At  last,  when  the  contributions  had  ceased,  he 
emptied  the  contents  of  his  hat  into  his  pocket.  Then,  pointing 
to  the  retreating  figure  of  the  philanthropist  who  had  started  the 
collection,  he  observed:  “Say,  maybe  he  ain’t  the  wise  guy! 

That’s  me  boss ! ” 

BUSINESS  ETHICS 

“Johnny,”  said  his  teacher,  “if  coal  is  selling  at  $6  a ton 
and  you  pay  your  dealer  $24  how  many  tons  will  he  bring  you  ? ” 
“A  little  over  three  tons,  ma’am,”  said  Johnny  promptly. 


72 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“Why,  Johnny,  that  isn’t  right,”  said  the  teacher. 

“No,  ma’am,  I know  it  ain’t,”  said  Johnny,  “but  they  all 
do  it.” 

BUSINESS  WOMEN 

Wanted — A housekeeping  man  by  a business  woman.  Object 
matrimony. 


CAMPAIGNS 

See  Candidates;  Public  speakers. 


CAMPING 

Camp  life  is  just  one  canned  thing  after  another. 


CANDIDATES 

“When  I first  decided  to  allow  the  people  of  Tupelo  to  use 
my  name  as  a candidate  for  Congress,  I went  out  to  a neighbor- 
ing parish  to  speak,”  said  Private  John  Allen  recently  to  some 
friends  at  the  old  Metropolitan  Hotel  in  Washington. 

“An  old  darky  came  up  to  greet  me  after  the  meeting.  ‘Marse 
Allen/  he  said,  Ts  powerful  glad  to  see  you.  I’s  known  ob  you 
sense  you  was  a babby.  Knew  yoh  pappy  long  befo’  you-all  wuz 
bohn,  too.  He  used  to  hold  de  same  office  you  got  now.  I 
’members  how  he  held  dat  same  office  fo’  years  an’  years.’ 

“ ‘What  office  do  you  mean,  uncle  ? ’ I asked,  as  I never  knew 
pop  held  any  office. 

“‘Why,  de  office  ob  candidate,  Marse  John;  yoh  pappy  was 
candidate  fo’  many  years.’  ” 

A good  story  is  told  on  the  later  Senator  Vance.  He  was 
traveling  down  in  North  Carolina,  when  he  met  an  old  darky  one 
Sunday  morning.  He  had  known  the  old  man  for  many  years, 
so  he  took  the  liberty  of  inquiring  where  he  was  going. 

“I  am,  sah,  pedestrianin’  my  appointed  way  to  de  tabernacle 
of  de  Lord.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


73 


“Are  you  an  Episcopalian  ? ’’  inquired  Vance. 

“No,  sah,  I can't  say  dat  I am  an  Epispokapillian.” 

“Maybe  you  are  a Baptist?" 

“No,  sah,  I can’t  say  dat  I’s  ever  been  buried  wid  de  Lord  in 
de  waters  of  baptism." 

“Oh,  I see  you  are  a Methodist." 

“No,  sah,  I can’t  say  dat  I’s  one  of  dose  who  hold  to  argy- 
ments  of  de  faith  of  de  Medodists." 

“What  are  you,  then,  uncle  ? ’’ 

“I’s  a Presbyterian,  Marse  Zeb,  just  de  same  as  you  is." 

“Oh  nonsense,  uncle,  you  don’t  mean  to  say  that  you  subscribe 
to  all  the  articles  of  the  Presbyterian  faith?" 

“ ’Deed  I do  sah." 

“Do  you  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  election  to  be  saved?" 

“Yas,  sah,  I b’lieve  in  the  doctrine  of  ’lection  most  firmly  and 
un’quivactin’ly.” 

“Well  then  tell  me  do  you  believe  that  I am  elected  to  be 
saved  ? ’’ 

The  old  darky  hesitated.  There  was  undoubtedly  a terrific 
struggle  going  on  in  his  mind  between  his  veracity  and  his 
desire  to  be  polite  to  the  Senator.  Finally  he  compromised  by 
saying : 

“Well,  I’ll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Marse  Zeb.  You  see  I’s  never 
heard  of  anybody  bein’  ’lected  to  anything  for  what  they  wasn’t 
a candidate.  Has  you,  sah?" 

A political  office  in  a small  town  was  vacant.  The  office  paid 
$250  a year  and  there  was  keen  competition  for  it.  One  of  the 
candidates,  Ezekiel  Hicks,  was  a shrewd  old  fellow,  and  a neat 
campaign  fund  was  turned  over  to  him.  To  the  astonishment 
of  all,  however,  he  was  defeated. 

“I  can’t  account  for  it,"  said  one  of  the  leaders  of  Hicks’ 
party,  gloomily. 

“With  that  money  we  should  have  won.  How  did  you  lay  it 
out,  Ezekiel." 

“Well,"  said  Ezekiel,  slowly  pulling  his  whiskers,  “yer  see 
that  office  only  pays  $250  a year  salary,  an’  I didn’t  see  no  sense 
in  paying  $900  out  to  get  the  office,  so  I bought  a little  truck 
farm  instead." 


74 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  little  daughter  of  a Democratic  candidate  for  a local  office 
in  Saratoga  County,  New  York,  when  told  that  her  father  had 
got  the  nomination,  cried  out,  “Oh,  mama,  do  they  ever  die  of 
it?” 


“I  am  willing,”  said  the  candidate,  after  he  had  hit  the  table 
a terrible  blow  with  his  fist,  “to  trust  the  people.” 

“Gee ! ” yelled  a little  man  in  the  audience.  “I  wish  you’d 
open  a grocery.” 

“Now,  Mr.  Blank,”  said  a temperance  advocate  to  a candidate 
for  municipal  honors,  “I  want  to  ask  you  a question.  Do  you 
ever  take  alcoholic  drinks  ? ” 

“Before  I answer  the  question,”  responded  the  wary  candidate, 
I want  to  know  whether  it  is  put  as  an  inquiry  or  as  an  invita- 
tion!” 


See  also  Politicians. 

CANNING  AND  PRESERVING 

& canner,  exceedingly  canny, 

One  morning  remarked  to  his  granny, 

“A  canner  can  can 
Anything  that  he  can; 

But  a canner  can’t  can  a can,  can  he  ? ” 

— Carolyn  Wells. 

CAPITALISTS 

Of  the  late  Bishop  Charles  G.  Grafton  a Fond  du  Lac  man 
said : “Bishop  Grafton  was  remarkable  for  the  neatness  and 

point  of  his  pulpit  utterances.  Once,  during  a disastrous  strike, 
a capitalist  of  Fond  du  Lac  arose  in  a church  meeting  and 
asked  leave  to  speak.  The  bishop  gave  him  the  floor,  and  the 
man  delivered  himself  of  a long  panegyric  upon  captains  of  in- 
dustry, upon  the  good  they  do  by  giving  men  work,  by  booming 
the  country,  by  reducing  the  cost  of  production,  and  so 
forth.  When  the  capitalist  had  finished  his  self-praise  and, 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


75 


flushed  and  satisfied,  had  sat  down  again,  Bishop  Grafton  rose 
and  said  with  quiet  significance:  ‘Is  there  any  other  sinner  that 
would  like  to  say  a word?’” 

CAREFULNESS 

Michael  Dugan,  a journeyman  plumber,  was  sent  by  his  em- 
ployer to  the  Hightower  mansion  to  repair  a gas-leak  in  the 
drawing-room.  When  the  butler  admitted  him  he  said  to 
Dugan : 

“You  are  requested  to  be  careful  of  the  floors.  They  have 
just  been  polished.” 

“They’s  no  danger  iv  me  slippin’  on  thim,”  replied  Dugan. 
“I  hov  spikes  in  me  shoes.” — Lippincotf  s. 

CARPENTERS 

While  building  a house,  Senator  Platt  of  Connecticut  had 
occasion  to  employ  a carpenter.  One  of  the  applicants  was  a 
plain  Connecticut  Yankee,  without  any  frills. 

“You  thoroughly  understand  carpentry?”  asked  the  senator. 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“You  can  make  doors,  windows,  and  blinds?” 

“Oh,  yes  sir !” 

“How  would  you  make  a Venetian  blind?” 

The  man  scratched  his  head  and  thought  deeply  for  a few 
seconds.  “I  should  think,  sir,”  he  said  finally,  “about  the  best 
way  would  be  to  punch  him  in  the  eye.” 

CARVING 

To  Our  National  Birds — the  Eagle  and  the  Turkey — (while 
the  host  is  carving)  : 

May  one  give  us  peace  in  all  our  States, 

And  the  other  a piece  for  all  our  plates. 

CASTE 

In  some  parts  of  the  South  the  darkies  are  still  addicted  to 
the  old  style  country  dance  in  a big  hall,  with  the  fiddlers, 
banjoists,  and  other  musicians  on  a platform  at  one  end. 


76 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


At  one  such  dance  held  not  long  ago  in  an  Alabama  town, 
when  the  fiddlers  had  duly  resined  their  bows  and  taken  their 
places  on  the  platform,  the  floor  manager  rose. 

“Git  yo’  partners  fo’  de  nex’  dance!”  he  yelled.  “All  you 
ladies  an’  gennulmens  dat  wears  shoes  an’  stocking,  take  yo’ 
places  in  de  middle  of  de  room.  All  you  ladies  an’  gennulmens 
dat  wears  shoes  an’  no  stocking,  take  yo’  places  immejitly  be- 
llin’ dem.  An’  yo’  bar  footed  crowd,  you  jes’  jig  it  roun’  in  de 
corners.” — Taylor  Edwards. 


CATS 

There  was  a young  lady  whose  dream 
Was  to  feed  a black  cat  on  whipt  cream, 

But  the  cat  with  a bound 
Spilt  the  milk  on  the  ground, 

So  she  fed  a whipt  cat  on  black  cream. 

There  once  were  two  cats  in  Kilkenny, 

And  each  cat  thought  that  there  was  one  cat  too  many, 
And  they  scratched  and  they  fit  and  they  tore  and  they  bit, 
’Til  instead  of  two  cats — there  weren’t  any. 


CAUSE  AND  EFFECT 

Archbishop  Whately  was  one  day  asked  if  he  rose  early.  He 
replied  that  once  he  did,  but  he  was  so  proud  all  the  morning 
and  so  sleepy  all  the  afternoon  that  he  determined  never  to  do 
it  again. 

A man  who  has  an  office  downtown  called  his  wife  by  tele- 
phone the  other  morning  and  during  the  conversation  asked 
what  the  baby  was  doing. 

“She  was  crying  her  eyes  out,”  replied  the  mother. 

“What  about?” 

“I  don’t  know  whether  it  is  because  she  has  eaten  too  many 
strawberries  or  because  she  wants  more,”  replied  the  discour- 
aged mother. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


77 


Banks — “I  had  a new  experience  yesterday,  one  you  might 
call  unaccountable.  I ate  a hearty  dinner,  finishing  up  with 
a Welsh  rabbit,  a mince  pie  and  some  lobster  a la  Newburgh. 
Then  I went  to  a place  of  amusement.  I had  hardly  entered 
the  building  before  everything  swam  before  me.” 

Binks — “The  Welsh  rabbit  did  it.” 

Bunks — “No;  it  was  the  lobster.” 

Bonks — “I  think  it  was  the  mince  pie.” 

Banks — “No;  I have  a simpler  explanation  than  that.  I 
never  felt  better  in  my  life ; I was  at  the  Aquarium.” — Judge. 

Among  a party  of  Bostonians  who  spent  some  time  in  a 
hunting-camp  in  Maine  were  two  college  professors.  No  sooner 
had  the  learned  gentlemen  arrived  than  their  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  the  unusual  position  of  the  stove,  which  was  set 
on  posts  about  four  feet  high. 

This  circumstance  afforded  one  of  the  professors  immediate 
opportunity  to  comment  upon  the  knowledge  that  woodsmen 
gain  by  observation. 

“Now,”  said  he,  “this  man  has  discovered  that  heat  emanating 
from  a stove  strikes  the  roof,  and  that  the  circulation  is  so 
quickened  that  the  camp  is  warmed  in  much  less  time  than 
would  be  required  were  the  stove  in  its  regular  place  on  the 
floor.” 

But  the  other  professor  ventured  the  opinion  that  the  stove 
was  elevated  to  be  above  the  window  in  order  that  cool  and 
pure  air  could  be  had  at  night. 

The  host,  being  of  a practical  turn,  thought  that  the  stove 
was  set  high  in  order  that  a good  supply  of  green  wood  could 
be  placed  under  it. 

After  much  argument,  they  called  the  guide  and  asked  why 
the  stove  was  in  such  a position. 

The  man  grinned.  “Well,  gents,”  he  explained,  “when  I 
brought  the  stove  up  the  river  I lost  most  of  the  stove-pipe 
overboard ; so  we  had  to  set  the  stove  up  that  way  so  as  to  have 
the  pipe  reach  through  the  roof.” 

Jack  Barrymore,  son  of  Maurice  Barrymore,  and  himself  an 
actor  of  some  ability,  is  not  over-particular  about  his  personal 
appearance  and  is  a little  lazy. 


78 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


He  was  in  San  Francisco  on  the  morning  of  the  earthquake. 
He  was  thrown  out  of  bed  by  one  of  the  shocks,  spun  around 
on  the  floor  and  left  gasping  in  a corner.  Finally,  he  got  to 
his  feet  and  rushed  for  a bathtub,  where  he  stayed  all  that  day. 
Next  day  he  ventured  out.  A soldier,  with  a bayonet  on  his 
gun,  captured  Barrymore  and  compelled  him  to  pile  bricks  for 
two  days. 

Barrymore  was  telling  his  terrible  experience  in  the  Lambs* 
Club  in  New  York. 

“Extraordinary,”  commented  Augustus  Thomas,  the  play- 
wright. “It  took  a convulsion  of  nature  to  make  Jack  take  a 
bath,  and  the  United  States  Army  to  make  him  go  to  work.” 


CAUTION 

Marshall  Field,  3rd,  according  to  a story  that  was  going  the 
rounds  several  years  ago,  bids  fair  to  become  a very  cautious 
business  man  when  he  grows  up.  Approaching  an  old  lady  in 
a Lakewood  hotel,  he  said : 

“Can  you  crack  nuts?” 

“No,  dear,”  the  old  lady  replied.  “I  lost  all  my  teeth  ages 
ago” 

“Then,”  requested  Master  Field,  extending  two  hands  full 
of  pecans,  “please  hold  these  while  I go  and  get  some  more.” 


CHAMPAGNE 

Mr.  Hilton — “Have  you  opened  that  bottle  of  champagne, 
Bridget?” 

Bridget — “Faith,  I started  to  open  it,  an’  it  began  to  open  it- 
self. Sure,  the  mon  that  filled  that  bottle  must  ’av’  put  in 
two  quarts  instead  of  wan.” 

Sir  Andrew  Clark  was  Mr.  Gladstone’s  physician,  and  was 
known  to  the  great  statesman  as  a “temperance  doctor”  who 
very  rarely  prescribed  alcohol  for  his  patients.  O11  one  occasion 
he  surprised  Mr.  Gladstone  by  recommending  him  to  take  some 
wine.  In  answer  to  his  illustrious  patient’s  surprise  he  said: 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


79 


“Oh,  wine  does  sometimes  help  you  get  through  work!  For 
instance,  I have  often  twenty  letters  to  answer  after  dinner,  and 
a pint  of  champagne  is  a great  help.,, 

“Indeed!”  remarked  Mr.  Gladstone;  “does  a pint  of  cham- 
pagne really  help  you  to  answer  the  twenty  letters?” 

“No,”  Sir  Andrew  explained;  “but  when  I’ve  had  a pint  of 
champagne  I don’t  care  a rap  whether  I answer  them  or  not.” 


CHARACTER 

The  Rev.  Charles  H.  Spurgeon  was  fond  of  a joke  and  his 
keen  wit  was,  moreover,  based  on  sterling  common  sense.  One 
day  he  remarked  to  one  of  his  sons: 

“Can  you  tell  me  the  reason  why  the  lions  didn’t  eat  Dan- 
iel?” 

“No  sir.  Why  was  it?” 

“Because  the  most  of  him  was  backbone  and  the  rest  was 
grit.” 


They  were  trying  an  Irishman,  charged  with  a petty  offense, 
in  an  Oklahoma  town,  when  the  judge  asked:  “Have  you  any 
one  in  court  who  will  vouch  for  your  good  character?” 

“Yis,  your  honor,”  quickly  responded  the  Celt,  “there’s  the 
sheriff  there.” 

Whereupon  the  sheriff  evinced  signs  of  great  amazement. 

“Why,  your  honor,”  declared  he,  “I  don’t  even  know  the 
man.” 

“Observe,  your  honor,”  said  the  Irishman,  triumphantly,  “ob- 
serve that  I’ve  lived  in  the  country  for  over  twelve  years  an’ 
the  sheriff  doesn’t  know  me  yit ! Ain’t  that  a character  for 

ye?” 

We  must  have  a weak  spot  or  two  in  a character  before  we 
can  love  it  much.  People  that  do  not  laugh  or  cry,  or  take 
more  of  anything  than  is  good  for  them,  or  use  anything  but 
dictionary- words,  are  admirable  subjects  for  biographies.  But 
we  don’t  care  most  for  those  flat  pattern  flowers  that  press 
best  in  the  herbarium. — 0.  W.  Holmes. 


8o 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


CHARITY 

“Charity,”  said  Rev.  B.,  “is  a sentiment  common  to  human 
nature.  A never  sees  B in  distress  without  wishing  C to  re- 
lieve him.” 

i 

Dr.  C.  H.  Parkhurst,  the  eloquent  New  York  clergyman,  at 
a recent  banquet  said  of  charity: 

“Too  many  of  us,  perhaps,  misinterpret  the  meaning  of 
charity  as  the  master  misinterpreted  the  Scriptural  text.  This 
master,  a pillar  of  a western  church,  entered  in  his  journal: 

“ ‘The  Scripture  ordains  that,  “if  a man  take  away  thy  coat, 
let  him  have  thy  cloak  also.”  To-day,  having  caught  the  host- 
ler stealing  my  potatoes,  I have  given  him  the  sack/  ” 

The  Lady — “Well,  I’ll  give  you  a dime;  not  because  you 
deserve  it,  mind,  but  because  it  pleases  me.” 

The  Tramp — “Thank  you,  mum.  Couldn’t  yer  make  it  a 
quarter  an’  thoroly  enjoy  yourself?” 

Porter  Emerson  came  into  the  office  yesterday.  He  had  been 
out  in  the  country  for  a week  and  was  very  cheerful.  Just 
as  he  was  leaving,  he  said:  “Did  you  hear  about  that  man  who 
died  the  other  day  and  left  all  he  had  to  the  orphanage?” 

“No,”  some  one  answered.  “How  much  did  he  leave?” 

“Twelve  children.” 

“I  made  a mistake,”  said  Plodding  Pete.  “I  told  that  man 
up  the  road  I needed  a little  help  ’cause  I was  lookin’  for  me 
family  from  whom  I had  been  separated  fur  years.” 

“Didn’t  that  make  him  come  across?” 

“He  couldn’t  see  it.  He  said  dat  he  didn’t  know  my  fam- 
ily, but  he  wasn’t  goin’  to  help  in  bringing  any  such  trouble 
on  ’em.” 

“It  requires  a vast  deal  of  courage  and  charity  to  be  philan- 
thropic,” remarked  Sir  Thomas  Lipton,  apropos  of  Andrew  Car- 
negie’s giving.  “I  remember  when  I was  just  starting  in  busi- 
ness. I was  very  poor  and  making  every  sacrifice  to  enlarge  my 
little  shop.  My  only  assistant  was  a boy  of  fourteen,  faith- 
ful and  willing  and  honest.  One  day  I heard  him  complaining, 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


81 


and  with  justice,  that  his  clothes  were  so  shabby  that  he  was 
ashamed  to  go  to  chapel. 

“ ‘There’s  no  chance  of  my  getting  a new  suit  this  year,’  he 
told  me.  ‘Dad’s  out  of  work,  and  it  takes  all  of  my  wages  to  pay 
the  rent.’ 

“I  thought  the  matter  over,  and  then  took  a sovereign  from 
my  carefully  hoarded  savings  and  bought  the  boy  a stout  warm 
suit  of  blue  cloth.  He  was  so  grateful  that  I felt  repaid  for  my 
sacrifice.  But  the  next  day  he  didn’t  come  to  work.  I met  his 
mother  on  the  street  and  asked  her  the  reason. 

“ ‘Why,  Mr.  Lipton,’  she  said,  curtsying,  ‘Jimmie  looks  so 
respectable,  thanks  to  you,  sir,  that  I thought  I would  send  him 
around  town  today  to  see  if  he  couldn’t  get  a better  job.’  ” 

“Good  morning,  ma’am,”  began  the  temperance  worker.  “I’m 
collecting  for  the  Inebriates’  Home  and ” 

“Why,  me  husband’s  out,”  replied  Mrs.  McGuire,  “but  if  ye 
can  find  him  anywhere’s  ye’re  welcome  to  him.” 

Charity  is  a virtue  of  the  heart,  and  not  of  the  hands. — Addi- 
son. 

You  find  people  ready  enough  to  do  the  Samaritan,  without 
the  oil  and  twopence. — Sydney  Smith. 

CHICAGO 

A western  bookseller  wrote  to  a house  in  Chicago  asking 
that  a dozen  copies  of  Canon  Farrar’s  “Seekers  after  God”  be 
shipped  to  him  at  once. 

Within  two  days  he  received  this  reply  by  telegraph : 

“No  seekers  after  God  in  Chicago  or  New  York.  Try  Phil- 
adelphia.” 


CHICKEN  STEALING 

Senator  Money  of  Mississippi  asked  an  old  colored  man  what 
breed  of  chickens  he  considered  best,  and  he  replied: 

“All  kinds  has  merits.  De  w’ite  ones  is  de  easiest  to  find; 
but  de  black  ones  is  de  easiest  to  hide  aftah  you  gits  ’em.” 


82 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Ida  Black  had  retired  from  the  most  select  colored  circles 
for  a brief  space,  on  account  of  a slight  difficulty  connected  with 
a gentleman’s  poultry-yard.  Her  mother  was  being  consoled  by 
a white  friend. 

“Why,  Aunt  Easter,  I was  mighty  sorry  to  hear  about 
Ida ” 

“Marse  John,  Ida  ain’t  nuvver  tuk  dem  chickens.  Ida 
wouldn’t  do  sich  a thing ! Ida  wouldn’t  demeange  herse’f  to  rob 
nobody’s  hen-roost — and,  any  way,  dem  old  chickens  warn’t 
nothing ’t  all  but  feathers  when  we  picked  ’em.” 


“Does  de  white  folks  in  youah  neighborhood  keep  eny  chick- 
ens, Br’er  Rastus?” 

“Well,  Br’er  Johnsing,  mebbe  dey  does  keep  a few.” 


Henry  E.  Dixey  met  a friend  one  afternoon  on  Broadway. 

“Well,  Henry,”  exclaimed  the  friend,  “you  are  looking  fine! 
What  do  they  feed  you  on  ? ” 

“Chicken  mostly,”  replied  Dixey.  “You  see,  I am  rehearsing 
in  a play  where  I am  to  be  a thief,  so,  just  by  way  of  getting  into 
training  for  the  part  I steal  one  of  my  own  chickens  every  morn- 
ing and  have  the  cook  broil  it  for  me.  I have  accomplished  the 
remarkable  feat  of  eating  thirty  chickens  in  thirty  consecutive 
days.” 

“Great  Scott ! ” exclaimed  the  friend.  “Do  you  still  like 
them?” 

“Yes,  I do,”  replied  Dixey;  “and,  what  is  better  still,  the 
chickens  like  me.  Why  they  have  got  so  when  I sneak  into  the 
hen-house  they  all  begin  to  cackle,  ‘I  wish  I was  in  Dixey.’  ” 

— A.  S.  Hitchcock. 


A southerner,  hearing  a great  commotion  in  his  chicken-house 
one  dark  night,  took  his  revolver  and  went  to  investigate. 
“Who’s  there?”  he  sternly  demanded,  opening  the  door. 

No  answer. 

“Who’s  there?  Answer,  or  I’ll  shoot!” 

A trembling  voice  from  the  farthest  corner: 

“ ’Deed,  sah,  dey  ain’t  nobody  hyah  ceptin’  us  chickens.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


83 


A colored  parson,  calling  upon  one  of  his  flock,  found  the 
object  of  his  visit  out  in  the  back  yard  working  among  his  hen- 
coops. He  noticed  with  surprise  that  there  were  no  chickens. 

“Why,  Brudder  Brown,”  he  asked,  “whar’r  all  yo’  chickens?” 

“Huh,”  grunted  Brother  Brown  without  looking  up,  “some 
fool  niggah  lef’  de  do’  open  an’  dey  all  went  home.” 

CHILD  LABOR 

“What’s  up  old  man ; you  look  as  happy  as  a lark ! ” 

“Happy?  Why  shouldn’t  I look  happy?  No  more  hard, 
weary  work  by  yours  truly.  I’ve  got  eight  kids  and  I’m  going 
to  move  to  Alabama.” — Life. 

CHILDREN 

Two  weary  parents  once  advertised: 

Wanted,  at  Once — Two  fluent  and  well-learned  persons, 
male  or  female,  to  answer  the  questions  of  a little  girl  of  three 
and  a boy  of  four ; each  to  take  four  hours  per  day  and  rest  the 
parents  of  said  children.” 

Another  couple  advertised : 

“Wanted:  A governess  who  is  good  stenographer,  to  take 

down  the  clever  sayings  of  our  child.” 

A boy  twelve  years  old  with  an  air  of  melancholy  resignation, 
went  to  his  teacher  and  handed  in  the  following  note  from  his 
mother  before  taking  his  seat : 

“Dear  Sir:  Please  excuse  James  for  not  being  present  yes- 

terday. 

“He  played  truant,  but  you  needn’t  whip  him  for  it,  as  the 
boy  he  played  truant  with  and  him  fell  out,  and  he  licked  James; 
and  a man  they  threw  stones  at  caught  him  and  licked  him ; and 
the  driver  of  a cart  they  hung  onto  licked  him;  and  the  owner 
of  a cat  they  chased  licked  him.  Then  I licked  him  when  he 
came  home,  after  which  his  father  licked  him ; and  I had  to  give 
him  another  for  being  impudent  to  me  for  telling  his  father.  So 
you  need  not  lick  him  until  next  time. 

“He  thinks  he  will  attend  regular  in  future.” 


84 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Mrs.  Post — “But  why  adopt  a baby  when  you  have  three  chil- 
dren of  your  own  under  five  years  old?” 

Mrs.  Parker — “My  own  are  being  brought  up  properly.  The 
adopted  one  is  to  enjoy.” 

The  neighbors  of  a certain  woman  in  a New  England  town 
maintain  that  this  lady  entertains  some  very  peculiar  notions 
touching  the  training  of  children.  Local  opinion  ascribes  these 
oddities  on  her  part  to  the  fact  that  she  attended  normal  school 
for  one  year  just  before  her  marriage. 

Said  one  neighbor:  “She  does  a lot  of  funny  things.  What 
do  you  suppose  I heard  her  say  to  that  boy  of  hers  this  after- 
noon? ” 

“I  dunno.  What  was  it?” 

“Well,  you  know  her  husband  cut  his  finger  badly  yesterday 
with  a hay-cutter;  and  this  afternoon  as  I was  goin’  by  the 
house  I heard  her  say: 

“ ‘Now,  William,  you  must  be  a very  good  boy,  for  your 
father  has  injured  his  hand,  and  if  you  are  naughty  he  won’t  be 
able  to  whip  you/” — Edwin  Tarrisse. 

Childhood  has  no  forebodings;  but  then,  it  is  soothed  by  no 
memories  of  outlived  sorrow. — George  Eliot. 

Better  to  be  driven  out  from  among  men  than  to  be  disliked 
of  children. — R . H.  Dana. 


See  also  Boys;  Families. 


CHOICES 

William  Phillips,  our  secretary  of  embassy  at  London,  tells 
of  an  American  officer  who,  by  the  kind  permission  of  the 
British  Government,  was  once  enabled  to  make  a week’s  cruise 
on  one  of  His  Majesty’s  battleships.  Among  other  things  that 
impressed  the  American  was  the  vessel’s  Sunday  morning  ser- 
vice. It  was  very  well  attended,  every  sailor  not  on  duty  being 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


85 


there.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  service  the  American  chanced 
to  ask  one  of  the  jackies: 

“Are  you  obliged  to  attend  these  Sunday  morning  services  ? ” 

“Not  exactly  obliged  to,  sir,”  replied  the  sailor-man,  “but  our 
grog  would  be  stopped  if  we  didn’t,  sir.” — Edwin  Tarrisse. 

A well-known  furniture  dealer  of  a Virginia  town  wanted  to 
give  his  faithful  negro  driver  something  for  Christmas  in  recog- 
nition of  his  unfailing  good  humor  in  toting  out  stoves,  beds, 
pianos,  etc. 

“Dobson,”  he  said,  “you  have  helped  me  through  some  pretty 
tight  places  in  the  last  ten  years,  and  I want  to  give  you  some- 
thing as  a Christmas  present  that  will  be  useful  to  you  and  that 
you  will  enjoy.  Which  do  you  prefer,  a ton  of  coal  or  a gallon 
of  good  whiskey?  ” 

“Boss,”  Dobson  replied,  “Ah  burns  wood  ” 

A man  hurried  into  a quick-lunch  restaurant  recently  and 
called  to  the  waiter:  “Give  me  a ham  sandwich.” 

“Yes,  sir,”  said  the  waiter,  reaching  for  the  sandwich;  “will 
you  eat  it  or  take  it  with  you  ? ” 

“Both,”  was  the  unexpected  but  obvious  reply. 

CHOIRS 


See  Singers. 


CHRISTIAN  SCIENTISTS 

While  waiting  for  the  speaker  at  a public  meeting  a pale 
little  man  in  the  audience  seemed  very  nervous.  He  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  from  time  to  time  and  squirmed  and  shifted 
about  in  his  seat.  At  last,  unable  to  stand  it  longer,  he  arose 
and  demanded,  in  a high,  penetrating  voice,  “Is  there  a Chris- 
tian Scientist  in  this  room?” 

A woman  at  the  other  side  of  the  hall  got  up  and  said,  “I 
am  a Christian  Scientist.” 

“Well,  then,  madam,”  requested  the  little  man,  “would  you 
mind  changing  seats  with  me?  I’m  sitting  in  a draft.” 


86 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


CHRISTIANS 

At  a dinner,  when  the  gentlemen  retired  to  the  smoking  room 
and  one  of  the  guests,  a Japanese,  remained  with  the  ladies,  one. 
asked  him: 

“Aren’t  you  going  to  join  the  gentlemen,  Mr.  Nagasaki?” 
“No.  I do  not  smoke,  I do  not  swear,  I do  not  drink.  But 
then,  I am  not  a Christian.” 


A traveler  who  believed  himself  to  be  sole  survivor  of  a ship- 
wreck upon  a cannibal  isle  hid  for  three  days,  in  terror  of  his 
life.  Driven  out  by  hunger,  he  discovered  a thin  wisp  of  smoke 
rising  from  a clump  of  bushes  inland,  and  crawled  carefully  to 
study  the  type  of  savages  about  it.  Just  as  he  reached  the  clump 
he  heard  a voice  say:  “Why  in  hell  did  you  play  that  card?” 

He  dropped  on  his  knees  and,  devoutly  raising  his  hands,  cried : 
“Thank  God  they  are  Christians ! ” 


CHRISTMAS  GIFTS 

“As  you  don’t  seem  to  know  what  you’d  like  for  Christmas, 
Freddie,”  said  his  mother,  “here’s  a printed  list  of  presents  for 
a good  little  boy.” 

Freddie  read  over  the  list,  and  then  said: 

“Mother,  haven’t  you  a list  for  a bad  little  boy?  ” 


’Twas  the  month  after  Christmas, 

And  Santa  had  flit; 

Came  there  tidings  for  father 
Which  read : “Please  remit ! ” 

—R.  L . F. 


Little  six-year-old  Harry  was  asked  by  his  Sunday-school 
teacher : 

“And,  Harry,  what  are  you  going  to  give  your  darling  little 
brother  for  Christmas  this  year?” 

“I  dunno,”  said  Harry;  “I  gave  him  the  measles  last  year.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


«7 


For  little  children  everywhere 
A joyous  season  still  we  make; 

We  bring  our  precious  gifts  to  them, 

Even  for  the  dear  child  Jesus’  sake. 

— Phebe  Cary. 

I will,  if  you  will, 

devote  my  Christmas  giving  to  the  children  and  the  needy, 
reserving  only  the  privilege  of,  once  in  a while, 
giving  to  a dear  friend  a gift  which  then  will  have 
the  old  charm  of  being  a genuine  surprise. 

I will,  if  you  will, 

keep  the  spirit  of  Christmas  in  my  heart,  and, 
barring  out  hurry,  worry,  and  competition, 

will  consecrate  the  blessed  season,  in  joy  and  love, 
to  the  One  whose  birth  we  celebrate. 

— Jane  Porter  Williams. 

CHRONOLOGY 

Tourist — “They  have  just  dug  up  the  corner-stone  of  an  an- 
cient library  in  Greece,  on  which  is  inscribed  ‘4000  B.  C.’  ” 
Englishman — “Before  Carnegie,  I presume.” 

CHURCH  ATTENDANCE 

“Tremendous  crowd  up  at  our  church  last  night.” 

“New  minister?” 

“No  it  was  burned  down.” 

“I  understand,”  said  a young  woman  to  another,  “that  at 
your  church  you  are  having  such  small  congregations.  Is  that 
so?” 

“Yes,”  answered  the  other  girl,  “so  small  that  every  time 
our  rector  says  ‘Dearly  Beloved’  you  feel  as  if  you  had  received 
a proposal !” 

“Are  you  a pillar  of  the  church?” 

“No,  I’m  a flying  buttress — I support  it  from  the  outside.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


CHURCH  DISCIPLINE 

Pius  the  Ninth  was  not  without  a certain  sense  of  humor. 
One  day,  while  sitting  for  his  portrait  to  Healy,  the  painter, 
speaking  of  a monk  who  had  left  the  church  and  married,  he 
observed,  not  without  malice:  “He  has  taken  his  punishment 
into  his  own  hands.” 

CIRCUS 

A well-known  theatrical  manager  repeats  an  instance  of 
what  the  late  W.  C.  Coup,  of  circus  fame,  once  told  him  was 
one  of  the  most  amusing  features  of  the  show-business;  the 
faking  in  the  “side-show.” 

Coup  was  the  owner  of  a small  circus  that  boasted  among 
its  principal  attractions  a man-eating  ape,  alleged  to  be  the 
largest  in  captivity.  This  ferocious  beast  was  exhibited  chained 
to  the  dead  trunk  of  a tree  in  the  side-show.  Early  in  the  day 
of  the  first  performance  of  Coup’s  enterprise  at  a certain  Ohio 
town,  a countryman  handed  the  man-eating  ape  a piece  of  to- 
bacco, in  the  chewing  of  which  the  beast  evinced  the  greatest 
satisfaction. 

The  word  was  soon  passed  around  that  the  ape  would 
chew  tobacco ; and  the  result  was  that  several  plugs  were 
thrown  at  him.  Unhappily,  however,  one  of  these  had  been 
filled  with  cayenne  pepper.  The  man-eating  ape  bit  it ; then, 
howling  with  indignation,  snapped  the  chain  that  bound  him 
to  the  tree,  and  made  straight  for  the  practical  joker  who  had 
so  cruelly  deceived  him. 

“Lave  me  at  ’im !”  yelled  the  ape.  “Lave  me  at  ’im,  the 
dirty  villain ! I’ll  have  the  rube’s  loife,  or  me  name  ain’t 
Magillicuddy !” 

Fortunately  for  the  countryman  and  for  Magillicuddy,  too, 
the  man-eating  ape  was  restrained  by  the  bystanders  in  time 
to  prevent  a killing. 

Willie  to  the  circus  went, 

He  thought  it  was  immense; 

His  little  heart  went  pitter-pat, 

For  the  excitement  was  in  tents. 

—Harvard  Lampoon. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


89 


A child  of  strict  parents,  whose  greatest  joy  had  hitherto 
been  the  weekly  prayer-meeting,  was  taken  by  its  nurse  to  the 
circus  for  the  first  time.  When  he  came  home  he  exclaimed : 
“Oh,  Mama,  if  you  once  went  to  the  circus  you’d  never, 
never  go  to  a prayer-meeting  again  in  all  your  life.,, 


Johnny,  who  had  been  to  the  circus,  was  telling  his  teacher 
about  the  wonderful  things  he  had  seen. 

“An’  teacher,”  he  cried,  “they  had  one  big  animal  they  called 
the  hip — hip- — 

“Hippopotamus,  dear,”  prompted  the  teacher. 

“I  can’t  just  say  its  name,”  exclaimed  Johnny,  “but  it  looks 
just  like  9,000  pounds  of  liver.” 


CIVILIZATION 

An  officer  of  the  Indian  Office  at  Washington  tells  of  the 
patronizing  airs  frequently  assumed  by  visitors  to  the  govern- 
ment schools  for  the  redskins. 

On  one  occasion  a pompous  little  man  was  being  shown 
through  one  institution  when  he  came  upon  an  Indian  lad  of 
seventeen  years.  The  worker  was  engaged  in  a bit  of  carpentry, 
which  the  visitor  observed  in  silence  for  some  minutes.  Then, 
with  the  utmost  gravity,  he  asked  the  boy: 

“Are  you  civilized?” 

The  youthful  redskin  lifted  his  eyes  from  his  work,  calmly 
surveyed  his  questioner,  and  then  replied : 

“No,  are  you?” — Taylor  Edwards. 


“My  dear,  listen  to  this,”  exclaimed  the  elderly  English  lady 
to  her  husband,  on  her  first  visit  to  the  States.  She  held  the 
hotel  menu  almost  at  arm’s  length,  and  spoke  in  a tone  of 
horror:  “‘Baked  Indian  pudding!’  Can  it  be  possible  in  a civi- 
lized country?” 

“The  path  of  civilization  is  paved  with  tin  cans.” — The  Phil- 
istine. 


go 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


CLEANLINESS 

“Among  the  tenements  that  lay  within  my  jurisdiction  when 
I first  took  up  mission  work  on  the  East  Side.”  says  a New 
York  young  woman,  “was  one  to  clean  out  which  would  have 
called  for  the  best  efforts  of  the  renovator  of  the  Augean  sta- 
bles. And  the  families  in  this  tenement  were  almost  as  hope- 
less as  the  tenement  itself. 

“On  one  occasion  I felt  distinctly  encouraged,  however,  since 
I observed  that  the  face  of  one  youngster  was  actually  clean. 

“ ‘William/  said  I,  ‘your  face  is  fairly  clean,  but  how  did 
you  get  such  d.rty  hands?” 

“ ‘Washin'  me  face/  said  William.” 

A woman  in  one  of  the  factory  towns  of  Massachusetts  re- 
cently agreed  to  take  charge  of  a little  girl  while  her  mother,  a 
seamstress,  went  to  another  town  for  a day's  work. 

The  woman  with  whom  the  child  had  been  left  endeavored 
to  keep  her  contented,  and  among  other  things  gave  her  a candy 
dog,  with  which  she  played  happily  all  day. 

At  night  the  dog  had  disappeared,  and  the  woman  inquired 
whether  it  had  been  lost. 

“No,  it  ain't  lost,”  answered  the  little  girl.  “I  kept  it  'most 
all  day,  but  it  got  so  dirty  that  I was  ashamed  to  look  at  it ; 
so  I et  it.” — Fenimore  Martin. 

“How  old  are  you?”  once  asked  Whistler  of  a London  news- 
boy. “Seven,”  was  the  reply.  Whistler  insisted  that  he  must 
be  older  than  that,  and  turning  to  his  friend  he  remarked:  “I 
don’t  think  he  could  get  as  dirty  as  that  in  seven  years,  do  you?” 

If  dirt  was  trumps,  what  hands  you  would  hold! — Charles 
Lamb. 

CLERGY 

“Now,  children,”  said  the  visiting  minister  who  had  been 
asked  to  question  the  Sunday-school,  “with  what  did  Samson 
arm  himself  to  fight  against  the  Philistines?” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


9i 


None  of  the  children  could  tell  him. 

“Oh,  yes,  you  know !”  he  said,  and  to  help  them  he  tapped 
his  jaw  with  one  finger.  “What  is  this?”  he  asked. 

This  jogged  their  memories,  and  the  class  cried  in  chorus: 
“The  jawbone  of  an  ass.” 


All  work  and  no  plagiarism  makes  a dull  parson. 


Bishop  Doane  of  Albany  was  at  one  time  rector  of  an  Epis- 
copal church  in  Hartford,  and  Mark  Twain,  who  occasionally 
attended  his  services,  played  a joke  upon  him,  one  Sunday. 

“Dr.  Doane,”  he  said  at  the  end  of  the  service,  “I  enjoyed 
your  sermon  this  morning.  I welcomed  it  like  on  old  friend. 
I have,  you  know,  a book  at  home  containing  every  word  of  it.” 

“You  have  not,”  said  Dr.  Doane. 

“I  have  so.” 

“Well,  send  that  book  to  me.  I’d  like  to  see  it.” 

“I’ll  send  it,”  the  humorist  replied.  Next  morning  he  sent 
an  unabridged  dictionary  to  the  rector. 

The  four-year-old  daughter  of  a clergyman  was  ailing  one 
night  and  was  put  to  bed  early.  As  her  mother  was  about  to 
leave  her  she  called  her  back. 

“Mamma,”  she  said,  “I  want  to  see  my  papa.” 

“No,  dear,”  her  mother  replied,  “your  papa  is  busy  and  must 
not  be  disturbed.” 

“But,  mamma,”  the  child  persisted,  “I  want  to  see  my  papa.” 

As  before,  the  mother  replied:  “No,  your  papa  must  not  be 
disturbed.” 

But  the  little  one  came  back  with  a clincher : 

“Mamma,”  she  declared  solemnly,  “I  am  a sick  woman,  and 
I want  to  see  my  minister.” 

Professor — “Now,  Mr.  Jones,  assuming  you  were  called  to 
attend  a patient  who  had  swallowed  a coin,  what  would  be  your 
method  of  procedure?” 

Young  Medico — “Fd  send  for  a preacher,  sir.  They’ll  get 
money  out  of  anyone.” 


92 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Archbishop  Ryan  was  once  accosted  on  the  streets  of  Balti- 
more by  a man  who  knew  the  archbishop’s  face,  but  could  not 
quite  place  it. 

“Now,  where  in  hell  have  I seen  you?”  he  asked  perplexedly. 
“From  where  in  hell  do  you  come,  sir?” 


A Duluth  pastor  makes  it  a point  to  welcome  any  strangers 
cordially,  and  one  evening,  after  the  completion  of  the  service, 
he  hurried  down  the  aisle  to  station  himself  at  the  door. 

He  noticed  a Swedish  girl,  evidently  a servant,  so  he  wel- 
comed her  to  the  church,  and  expressed  the  hope  that  she  would 
be  a regular  attendant.  Finally  he  said  if  she  would  be  at 
home  some  evening  during  the  week  he  would  call. 

“Tank  you,”  she  murmured  bashfully,  “but  ay  have  a fella.” 


A minister  of  a fashionable  church  in  Newark  had  always 
left  the  greeting  of  strangers  to  be  attended  to  by  the  ushers, 
until  he  read  the  newspaper  articles  in  reference  to  the  matter. 

“Suppose  a reporter  should  visit  our  church?”  said  his  wife. 

“Wouldn’t  it  be  awful?” 

“It  would,”  the  minister  admitted. 

The  following  Sunday  evening  he  noticed  a plainly  dressed 
woman  in  one  of  the  free  pews.  She  sat  alone  and  was  clearly 
not  a member  of  the  flock.  After  the  benediction  the  minister 
hastened  and  intercepted  her  at  the  door. 

“How  do  you  do?”  he  said,  offering  his  hand,  “I  am  very 
glad  to  have  you  with  us.” 

“Thank  you,”  replied  the  young  woman. 

“ I hope  we  may  see  you  often  in  our  church  home,”  he  went 
on.  “We  are  always  glad  to  welcome  new  faces.” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Do  you  live  in  this  parish?”  he  asked. 

The  girl  looked  blank. 

“If  you  will  give  me  your  address  my  wife  and  I will  call 
on  you  some  evening.” 

“You  wouldn’t  need  to  go  far,  sir,”  said  the  young  woman, 
“I’m  your  cook !” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


93 


Bishop  Goodsell,  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  church,  weighs 
over  two  hundred  pounds.  It  was  with  mingled  emotions,  there- 
fore that  he  read  the  following  in  Zion’s  Herald  some  time  ago: 
“The  announcement  that  our  New  England  bishop,  Daniel  A. 
Goodsell,  has  promised  to  preach  at  the  Willimantic  camp  meet- 
ing, will  give  great  pleasure  to  the  hosts  of  Israel  who  are  look- 
ing forward  to  that  feast  of  fat  things.” 

It  is  a standing  rule  of  a company  whose  boats  ply  the  Great 
Lakes  that  clergymen  and  Indians  may  travel  on  its  boats  for 
half-fare.  A short  time  ago  an  agent  of  the  company  was  ap- 
proached by  an  Indian  preacher  from  Canada,  who  asked  for 
free  transportation  on  the  ground  that  he  was  entitled  to  one- 
half  rebate  because  he  was  an  Indian,  and  the  other  half  because 
he  was  a clergyman. — Elgin  Burroughs. 

Booker  Washington,  as  all  the  world  knows,  believes  that  the 
salvation  of  his  race  lies  in  industry.  Thus,  if  a young  man 
wants  to  be  a clergyman,  he  will  meet  with  but  little  encourage- 
ment from  the  head  of  Tuskegee;  but  if  he  wants  to  be  a black- 
smith or  a bricklayer,  his  welcome  is  warm  and  hearty. 

Dr.  Washington,  in  a recent  address  in  Chicago,  said : 

“The  world  is  overfull  of  preachers  and  when  an  aspirant  for 
the  pulpit  comes  to  me,  I am  inclined  to  tell  him  about  the  old 
uncle  working  in  the  cotton  field  who  said : 

“ ‘De  cotton  am  so  grassy,  de  work  am  so  hard,  and  de  sun 
am  so  hot,  Ah  ’clare  to  goodness  Ah  believe  dis  darkey  am 
called  to  preach.*  ** 

On  one  occasion  the  minister  delivered  a sermon  of  but  ten 
minutes*  duration — a most  unusual  thing  for  him. 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  his  remarks  he  added : “I  regret  to 

inform  you,  brethren,  that  my  dog,  who  appears  to  be  peculiarly 
fond  of  paper,  this  morning  ate  that  portion  of  my  sermon  that 
I have  not  delivered.  Let  us  pray.” 

After  the  service  the  clergyman  was  met  at  the  door  by  a man 
who  as  a rule,  attended  divine  service  in  another  parish.  Shak- 
ing the  good  man  by  the  hand  he  said: 

“Doctor,  I should  like  to  know  whether  that  dog  of  yours 
has  any  pups.  If  so  I want  to  get  one  to  give  to  my  minister.*’ 


94 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Recipe  for  a parson: 

To  a cupful  of  negative  goodness 
Add  the  pleasure  of  giving  advice. 

Sift  in  a peck  of  dry  sermons, 

And  flavor  with  brimstone  or  ice. 

— Life . 

A pompous  Bishop  of  Oxford  was  once  stopped  on  a London 
street  by  a ragged  urchin. 

“Well,  my  little  man,  and  what  can  I do  for  you?  ” inquired 
the  churchman. 

“The  time  o’  day,  please,  your  lordship.” 

With  considerable  difficulty  the  portly  bishop  extracted  his 
timepiece. 

“It  is  exactly  half  past  five,  my  lad.” 

“Well,”  said  the  boy,  setting  his  feet  for  a good  start,  “at 
'alf  past  six  you  go  to  'ell !” — and  he  was  off  like  a flash  and 
around  the  corner.  The  bishop,  flushed  and  furious,  his  watch 
dangling  from  its  chain,  floundered  wildly  after  him.  But  as 
he  rounded  the  corner  he  ran  plump  into  the  outstretched  arms 
of  the  venerable  Bishop  of  London. 

“Oxford,  Oxford,”  remonstrated  that  surprised  dignitary, 
“why  this  unseemly  haste?” 

Puffing,  blowing,  spluttering,  the  outraged  Bishop  gasped  out: 

“That  young  ragamuffin — I told  him  it  was  half  past  five — 
he — er — told  me  to  go  to  hell  at  half  past  six.” 

“Yes,  yes,”  said  the  Bishop  of  London  with  the  suspicion  of 
a twinkle  in  his  kindly  old  eyes,  “but  why  such  haste?  You've 
got  almost  an  hour.” 

Skilful  alike  with  tongue  and  pen, 

He  preached  to  all  men  everywhere 
The  Gospel  of  the  Golden  Rule, 

The  New  Commandment  given  to  men, 

Thinking  the  deed,  and  not  the  creed, 

Would  help  us  in  our  utmost  need. 

— Longfellow. 

See  also  Burglars;  Contribution  box;  Preaching;  Resignation. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


95 


CLIMATE 

In  a certain  town  the  local  forecaster  of  the  weather  was  so 
often  wrong  that  his  predictions  became  a standing  joke,  to  his 
no  small  annoyance,  for  he  was  very  sensitive.  At  length,  in 
despair  of  living  down  his  reputation,  he  asked  headquarters  to 
transfer  him  to  another  station. 

A brief  correspondance  ensued. 

“Why,”  asked  headquarters,  “do  you  wish  to  be  transferred?” 

“Because,”  the  forecaster  promptly  replied,  “the  climate 
doesn’t  agree  with  me.” 


CLOTHING 

One  morning  as  Mark  Twain  returned  from  a neighborhood 
morning  call,  sans  necktie,  his  wife  met  him  at  the  door  with 
the  exclamation:  “There,  Sam,  you  have  been  over  to  the 

Stowes’s  again  without  a necktie ! It’s  really  disgraceful  the  way 
you  neglect  your  dress ! ” 

Her  husband  said  nothing,  but  went  up  to  his  room. 

A few  minutes  later  his  neighbor — Mrs.  S. — was  summoned 
to  the  door  by  a messenger,  who  presented  her  with  a small  box 
neatly  done  up.  She  opened  it  and  found  a black  silk  necktie, 
accompanied  by  the  following  note:  “Here  is  a necktie.  Take 

it  out  and  look  at  it.  I think  I stayed  half  an  hour  this  morning. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  will  you  kindly  return  it,  as  it  is  the  only 
one  I have? — Mark  Twain.” 

A man  whose  trousers  bagged  badly  at  the  knees  was  stand- 
ing on  a corner  waiting  for  a car.  A passing  Irishman  stopped 
and  watched  him  with  great  interest  for  two  or  three  minutes; 
at  last  he  said: 

“Well,  why  don’t  ye  jump?” 

“The  evening  wore  on,”  continued  the  man  who  was  telling 
the  story. 

“Excuse  me,”  interrupted  the  would-be-wit ; “but  can  you  tell 
us  what  the  evening  wore  on  that  occasion?” 

“I  don’t  know  that  it  is  important,”  replied  the  story-teller. 
“But  if  you  must  know,  I believe  it  was  the  close  of  a summer 
day.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


96 


“See  that  measuring  worm  crawling  up  my  skirt ! ” cried 
Mrs.  Bjenks.  “That’s  a sign  I’m  going  to  have  a new  dress.” 

“Well,  let  him  make  it  for  you,”  growled  Mr.  Bjenks.  “And 
while  he’s  about  it.  have  him  send  a hookworm  to  do  you  up  the 
back.  I’m  tired  of  the  job.” 

Dwellers  in  huts  and  in  marble  halls — 

From  Shepherdess  up  to  Queen — 

Cared  little  for  bonnets,  and  less  for  shawls, 

And  nothing  for  crinoline. 

But  now  simplicity’s  not  the  rage, 

And  it’s  funny  to  think  how  cold 
The  dress  they  wore  in  the  Golden  Age 
Would  seem  in  the  Age  of  Gold. 

— Henry  S.  Leigh . 

Costly  thy  habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy, 

But  not  express’d  in  fancy;  rich,  not  gaudy; 

For  the  apparel  oft  proclaims  the  man. 

— Shakespeare. 

CLUBS 

Belle  and  Ben  had  just  announced  their  engagement. 

“When  we  are  married,”  said  Belle,  “I  shall  expect  you  to 
shave  every  morning.  It’s  one  of  the  rules  of  the  club  I belong 
to  that  none  of  its  members  shall  marry  a man  who  won’t  shave 
every  morning.” 

“Oh,  that’s  all  right,”  replied  Ben ; “but  what  about  the 
mornings  I don’t  get  home  in  time?  I belong  to  a club,  too.” 

— M.  A.  Hitchcock. 

The  guest  landing  at  the  yacht  club  float  with  his  host,  both 
of  them  wearing  oilskins  and  sou’-westers  to  protect  them  from 
the  drenching  rain,  inquired : 

“And  who  are  those  gentlemen  seated  on  the  veranda,  look- 
ing so  spick  and  span  in  their  white  duck  yachting  caps  and 
trousers,  and  keeping  the  waiters  running  all  the  time?” 

“They’re  the  rocking-chair  members.  They  never  go  outside, 
and  they’re  waterproof  inside.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


97 


One  afternoon  thirty  ladies  met  at  the  home  of  Mrs.  Lyons 
to  form  a woman’s  club.  The  hostess  was  unanimously  elected 
president.  The  next  day  the  following  ad  appeared  in  the  news- 
paper : 

“Wanted — a reliable  woman  to  take  care  of  a baby.  Apply 
to  Mrs.  J.  W.  Lyons.” 


COAL  DEALERS 

In  a Kansas  town  where  two  brothers  are  engaged  in  the 
retail  coal  business  a revival  was  recently  held  and  the  elder  of 
the  brothers  was  converted.  For  weeks  he  tried  to  persuade  his 
brother  to  join  the  church.  One  day  he  asked : 

“Why  can’t  you  join  the  church  like  I did?” 

“It’s  a fine  thing  for  you  to  belong  to  the  church,”  replied 
the  younger  brother,  “If  I join  the  church  who’ll  weigh  the 
coal  ?” 


COEDUCATION 

The  speaker  was  waxing  eloquent,  and  after  his  peroration 
on  woman’s  rights  he  said : “When  they  take  our  girls,  as 

they  threaten,  away  from  the  coeducational  colleges,  what  will 
follow?  What  will  follow,  I repeat?” 

And  a loud,  masculine  voice  in  the  audience  replied : “I  will !” 


COFFEE 

Among  the  coffee-drinkers  a high  place  must  be  given  to 
Bismarck.  He  liked  coffee  unadulterated.  While  with  the 
Prussian  Army  in  France  he  one  day  entered  a country  inn  and 
asked  the  host  if  he  had  any  chicory  in  the  house.  He  had. 
Bismarck  said — “Well,  bring  it  to  me;  all  you  have.”  The  man 
obeyed  and  handed  Bismarck  a canister  full  of  chicory.  “Are  you 
sure  this  is  all  you  have?”  demanded  the  Chancellor.  “Yes, 
my  lord,  every  grain.”  “Then,”  said  Bismarck,  keeping  the 
canister  by  him,  “go  now  and  make  me  a pot  of  coffee.” 


98 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


COINS 

He  had  just  returned  from  Paris  and  said  to  his  old  aunt  in 
the  country : “Here,  Aunt,  is  a silver  franc  piece  I brought  you 

from  Paris  as  a souvenir.” 

“Thanks,  Herman,”  said  the  old  lady.  “I  wish  you’d  thought 
to  have  brought  me  home  one  of  them  Latin  quarters  I read 
so  much  about.” 

COLLECTING  OF  ACCOUNTS 

An  enterprising  firm  advertised : “All  persons  indebted  to  our 
store  are  requested  to  call  and  settle.  All  those  indebted  to  our 
store  and  not  knowing  it  are  requested  to  call  and  find  out. 
Those  knowing  themselves  indebted  and  not  wishing  to  call,  are 
requested  to  stay  in  one  place  long  enough  for  us  to  catch 
them.” 

“Sir,”  said  the  haughty  American  to  his  adhesive  tailor,  “I 
object  to  this  boorish  dunning.  I would  have  you  know  that  my 
great-great-grandfather  was  one  of  the  early  settlers.” 

“And  yet,”  sighed  the  anxious  tradesman,  “there  are  people 
who  believe  in  heredity.” 

A retail  dealer  in  buggies  doing  business  in  one  of  the  large 
towns  in  northern  Indiana  wrote  to  a firm  in  the  east  ordering 
a carload  of  buggies.  The  firm  wired  him : 

“Cannot  ship  buggies  until  you  pay  for  your  last  consign- 
ment.” 

“Unable  to  wait  so  long,”  wired  back  the  buggy  dealer,  “can- 
cel order.” 

The  saddest  words  of  tongue  or  pen 
May  be  perhaps,  “It  might  have  been,” 

The  sweetest  words  we  know,  by  heck, 

Are  only  these  “Enclosed  find  check ! ” 

Minne-Ha-Ha. 

COLLECTORS  AND  COLLECTING 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  had  called  to  take  a cup  of  tea  with 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

“It  was  very  good  of  you,  Sir  Walter,”  said  her  Majesty, 
smiling  sweetly  upon  the  gallant  Knight,  “to  ruin  your  cloak  the 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


99 


other  day  so  that  my  feet  should  not  be  wet  by  that  horrid 
puddle.  May  I not  instruct  my  Lord  High  Treasurer  to  re- 
imburse you  for  it?” 

“Don’t  mention  it,  your  Majesty,”  replied  Raleigh.  “It  only 
cost  two  and  six,  and  I have  already  sold  it  to  an  American 
collector  for  eight  thousand  pounds.” 


COLLEGE  GRADUATES 

“Can’t  I take  your  order  for  one  of  our  encyclopedias !”  asked 
the  dapper  agent. 

“No  I guess  not,”  said  the  busy  man.  “I  might  be  able  to  use 
it  a few  times,  but  my  son  will  be  home  from  college  in  June.” 


COLLEGE  STUDENTS 

“Say,  dad,  remember  that  story  you  told  me  about  when  you 
were  expelled  from  college?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,  I was  just  thinking,  dad,  how  true  it  is  that  history  re- 
peats itself.” 

Wanted:  Burly  beauty-proof  individual  to  read  meters  in 
sorority  houses.  We  haven’t  made  a nickel  in  two  years.  The 
Gas  Co. — Michigan  Gargoyle. 

Freshman — “I  have  a sliver  in  my  finger.” 

Soph — “Been  scratching  your  head?” 

Stude — “Do  you  smoke,  professor?” 

Prof. — “Why,  yes,  I’m  very  fond  of  a good  cigar.” 

Stude — “Do  you  drink,  sir?” 

Prof. — “Yes,  indeed,  I enjoy  nothing  better  than  a bottle 
of  wine.” 

Stude — “Gee,  it’s  going  to  cost  me  something  to  pass  this 
course.” — Cornell  Widow. 


100 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Three  boys  from  Yale,  Princeton  and  Harvard  were  in  a 
room  when  a lady  entered.  The  Yale  boy  asked  languidly  if 
some  fellow  ought  not  to  give  a chair  to  the  lady;  the  Princeton 
boy  slowly  brought  one,  and  the  Harvard  boy  deliberately  sat 
down  in  it. — Life. 

A college  professor  was  one  day  nearing  the  close  of  a history 
lecture  and  was  indulging  in  one  of  those  rhetorical  climaxes  in 
which  he  delighted  when  the  hour  struck.  The  students  imme- 
diately began  to  slam  down  the  movable  arms  of  their  lecture 
chairs  and  to  prepare  to  leave. 

The  professor,  annoyed  at  the  interruption  of  his  flow  of 
eloquence,  held  up  his  hand: 

“Wait  just  one  minute,  gentlemen.  I have  a few  more  pearls 
to  cast.” 

When  Rutherford  B.  Hayes  was  a student  at  college  it  was 
his  custom  to  take  a walk  before  breakfast. 

One  morning  two  of  his  student  friends  went  with  him. 
After  walking  a short  distance  they  met  an  old  man  with  a long 
white  beard.  Thinking  that  they  would  have  a little  fun  at  the 
old  man’s  expense,  the  first  one  bowed  to  him  very  gracefully 
and  said : “Good  morning,  Father  Abraham.” 

The  next  one  made  a low  bow  and  said : “Good  morning, 
Father  Isaac.” 

Young  Hayes  then  made  his  bow  and  said:  “Good  morning 
Father  Jacob.” 

The  old  man  looked  at  them  a moment  and  then  said:  “Young 
men,  I am  neither  Abraham,  Isaac  nor  Jacob.  I am  Saul,  the 
son  of  Kish,  and  I am  out  looking  for  my  father’s  asses,  and 
lo,  I have  found  them.” 

A western  college  boy  amused  himself  by  writing  stories  and 
giving  them  to  papers  for  nothing.  His  father  objected  and 
wrote  to  the  boy  that  he  was  wasting  his  time.  In  answer  the 
college  lad  wrote: 

“So,  dad,  you  think  I am  wasting  my  time  in  writing  for  the 
local  papers  and  cite  Johnson’s  saying  that  the  man  who  writes, 
except  for  money,  is  a fool.  I shall  act  upon  Doctor  Johnson’s 
suggestion  and  write  for  money.  Send  me  fifty  dollars.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


101 


The  president  of  an  eastern  university  had  just  announced 
in  chapel  that  the  freshman  class  was  the  largest  enrolled  in  the 
history  of  the  institution.  Immediately  he  followed  the  an- 
nouncement by  reading  the  text  for  the  morning : “Lord,  how  are 
they  increased  that  trouble  me  I” 

Stude. — “Is  it  possible  to  confide  a secret  to  you?” 

Friend — “Certainly.  I will  be  as  silent  as  the  grave.” 

Stude — “Well,  then,  I have  a pressing  need  for  two  bucks.” 

Friend — “Do  not  worry.  It  is  as  if  I had  heard  nothing.” 

— Michigan  Gargoyle. 

“Why  did  you  come  to  college,  anyway?  You  are  not  study- 
ing,” said  the  Professor. 

“Well,”  said  Willie,  “I  don’t  know  exactly  myself.  Mother 
says  it  is  to  fit  me  for  the  Presidency;  Uncle  Bill,  to  sow  my 
wild  oats ; Sis,  to  get  a chum  for  her  to  marry,  and  Pa,  to  bank- 
rupt the  family.” 

A young  Irishman  at  college  in  want  of  twenty-five  dollars 
wrote  to  his  uncle  as  follows : 

“Dear  Uncle. — If  you  could  see  how  I blush  for  shame  while 
I am  writing,  you  would  pity  me.  Do  you  know  why?  Because 
I have  to  ask  you  for  a few  dollars,  and  do  not  know  how  to 
express  myself.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  tell  you.  I prefer 
to  die.  I send  you  this  by  messenger,  who  will  wait  for  an  an- 
swer. Believe  me,  my  dearest  uncle,  your  most  obedient  and 
affectionate  nephew. 

“P.  S. — Overcome  with  shame  for  what  I have  written,  I have 
been  running  after  the  messenger  in  order  to  take  the  letter  from 
him,  but  I cannot  catch  him.  Heaven  grant  that  something  may 
happen  to  stop  him,  or  that  this  letter  may  get  lost.” 

The  uncle  was  naturally  touched,  but  was  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency. He  replied  as  follows : 

“My  Dear  Jack — Console  yourself  and  blush  no  more.  Provi- 
dence has  heard  your  prayers.  The  messenger  lost  your  letter. 
Your  affectionate  uncle.” 

The  professor  was  delivering  the  final  lecture  of  the  term. 
He  dwelt  with  much  emphasis  on  the  fact  that  each  student 


102 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


should  devote  all  the  intervening  time  preparing  for  the  final 
examinations. 

'‘The  examination  papers  are  now  in  the  hands  of  the  printer. 
Are  there  any  questions  to  be  asked?” 

Silence  prevailed.  Suddenly  a voice  from  the  rear  inquired  ; 

“Who’s  the  printer?” 

It  was  Commencement  Day  at  a well-known  woman’s  col- 
lege, and  the  father  of  one  of  the  young  women  came  to  at- 
tend the  graduation  exercises.  He  was  presented  to  the  pres- 
ident, who  said,  “I  congratulate  you,  sir,  upon  your  extremely 
large  and  affectionate  family.” 

“Large  and  affectionate?”  he  stammered  and  looking  very 
much  surprised. 

“Yes,  indeed,”  said  the  president.  “No  less  than  twelve  of 
your  daughter’s  brothers  have  called  frequently  during  the 
winter  to  take  her  driving  and  sleighing,  while  your  eldest  son 
escorted  her  to  the  theater  at  least  twice  a week.  Unusually 
nice  brothers  they  are.” 

The  world’s  great  men  have  not  commonly  been  great  schol- 
ars, nor  its  great  scholars  great  men. — O.  W . Holmes. 

See  also  Harvard  university;  Scholarship. 

COLLEGES  AND  UNIVERSITIES 

The  college  is  a coy  maid — 

She  has  a habit  quaint 
Of  making  eyes  at  millionaires 
And  winking  at  the  taint. — Judge. 

“What  is  a ‘faculty’?” 

“A  ‘faculty’  is  a body  of  men  surrounded  by  red  tape.” 

— Cornell  Widow. 

Yale  University  is  to  have  a ton  of  fossils.  Whether  for  the 
faculty  or  for  the  museums  is  not  announced. 

— The  Atlanta  Journal. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


103 


First  Trustee — “But  this  ancient  institution  of  learning  will 
fail  unless  something  is  done” 

Second  Trustee — “True;  but  what  can  we  do?  We  have  al- 
ready raised  the  tuition  until  it  is  almost  1 per  cent  of  the  fra- 
ternity fees.” — Puck. 

The  president  of  the  university  had  dark  circles  under  his 
eyes.  His  cheek  was  pallid;  his  lips  were  trembling;  he  wore 
a hunted  expression. 

“You  look  ill,”  said  his  wife.  “What  is  wrong,  dear?” 

“Nothing  much,”  he  replied.  “But — I — I had  a fearful 

dream  last  night,  and  I feel  this  morning  as  if  I — as  if  I ” 

It  was  evident  that  his  nervous  system  was  shattered. 

“What  was  the  dream?”  asked  his  wife. 

“I — I — dreamed  the  trustees  required  that — that  I should — 
that  I should  pass  the  freshman  examination  for — admission !” 
sighed  the  president. 

COMMON  SENSE 

A mysterious  building  had  been  erected  on  the  outskirts 
of  a small  town.  It  was  shrouded  in  mystery.  All  that  was 
known  about  it  was  that  it  was  a chemical  laboratory.  An 
old  farmer,  driving  past  the  place  after  work  had  been  started, 
and  seeing  a man  in  the  doorway,  called  to  him: 

“What  be  ye  doin’  in  this  place?” 

“We  are  searching  for  a universal  solvent — something  that 
will  dissolve  all  things,”  said  the  chemist. 

“What  good  will  thet  be?” 

“Imagine,  sir!  It  will  dissolve  all  things.  If  we  want  a 
solution  of  iron,  glass,  gold — anything,  all  that  we  have  to  do 
is  to  drop  it  in  this  solution.” 

“Fine,”  said  the  farmer,  “fine ! What  be  ye  goin’  to  keep 
it  in?” 


COMMUTERS 

Briggs — “Is  it  true  that  you  have  broken  off  your  engage- 
ment to  that  girl  who  lives  in  the  suburbs?” 

Griggs — “Yes;  they  raised  the  commutation  rates  on  me  and 
I have  transferred  to  a town  girl.” 


104 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“I  see  you  carrying  home  a new  kind  of  breakfast  food,” 
remarked  the  first  commuter. 

“Yes,”  said  the  second  commuter,  “I  was  missing  too  many 
trains.  The  old  brand  required  three  seconds  to  prepare.  You 
can  fix  this  new  brand  in  a second  and  a half.” 


After  the  sermon  on  Sunday  morning  the  rector  welcomed 
and  shook  hands  with  a young  German. 

“And  are  you  a regular  communicant?”  said  the  rector. 
“Yes,”  said  the  German:  “I  take  the  7:45  every  morning.” 

— M.  L.  Hayward. 


A suburban  train  was  slowly  working  its  way  through  one 
of  the  blizzards  of  1894.  Finally  it  came  to  a dead  stop  and 
all  efforts  to  start  it  again  were  futile. 

In  the  wee,  small  hours  of  the  morning  a weary  commuter, 
numb  from  the  cold  and  the  cramped  position  in  which  he  had 
tried  to  sleep,  crawled  out  of  the  train  and  floundered  through 
the  heavy  snow-drifts  to  the  nearest  telegraph  station.  This 
is  the  message  he  handed  to  the  operator: 

“Will  not  be  at  office  to-day.  Not  home  yesterday  yet.” 

A nervous  commuter  on  his  dark,  lonely  way  home  from 
the  railroad  station  heard  footsteps  behind  him.  He  had  an 
uncomfortable  feeling  that  he  was  being  followed.  He  in- 
creased his  speed.  The  footsteps  quickened  accordingly.  The 
commuter  darted  down  a lane.  The  footsteps  still  pursued  him. 
In  desperation  he  vaulted  over  a fence  and,  rushing  into  a 
churchyard,  threw  himself  panting  on  one  of  the  graves. 

“If  he  follows  me  here,”  he  thought  fearfully,  “there  can 
be  no  doubt  as  to  his  intentions.” 

The  man  behind  was  following.  He  could  hear  him  scram- 
bling over  the  fence.  Visions  of  highwaymen,  maniacs,  gar- 
roters  and  the  like  flashed  through  his  brain.  Quivering  with 
fear,  the  nervous  one  arose  and  faced  his  pursuer. 

“What  do  you  want?”  he  demanded.  “Wh-why  are  you  fol- 
lowing me?” 

“Say,”  asked  the  stranger,  mopping  his  brow,  “do  you  al- 
ways go  home  like  this?  I'm  going  up  to  Mr.  Brown’s  and 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


105 


the  man  at  the  station  told  me  to  follow  you,  as  you  lived  next 
door.  Excuse  my  asking  you,  but  is  there  much  more  to  do 
before  we  get  there  ?” 


COMPARISONS 

A milliner  endeavored  to  sell  to  a colored  woman  one  of  the 
last  season’s  hats  at  a very  moderate  price.  It  was  a big  white 
picture-hat. 

‘‘Law,  no,  honey!”  exclaimed  the  woman.  “I  could  nevah 
wear  that.  I’d  look  jes’  like  a blueberry  in  a pan  of  milk” 

A well-known  author  tells  of  an  English  spinster  who  said, 
as  she  watched  a great  actress  writhing  about  the  floor  as 
Cleopatra : 

“How  different  from  the  home  life  of  our  late  dear  queen !” 

“Darling,”  whispered  the  ardent  suitor,  “I  lay  my  fortune 
at  your  feet.” 

“Your  fortune?”  she  replied  in  surprise.  “I  didn’t  know  you 
had  one.” 

“Well,  it  isn’t  much  of  a fortune,  but  it  will  look  large  besides 
those  tiny  feet.” 

“Girls  make  me  tired,”  said  the  fresh  young  man.  “They 
are  always  going  to  palmists  to  have  their  hands  read.” 

“Indeed !”  said  she  sweetly ; “is  that  any  worse  than  men 
going  into  saloons  to  get  their  noses  red?” 

A friend  once  wrote  Mark  Twain  a letter  saying  that  he  was 
in  very  bad  health,  and  concluding:  “Is  there  anything  worse 

than  having  toothache  and  earache  at  the  same  time?” 

The  humorist  wrote  back:  “Yes,  rheumatism  and  Saint 

Vitus’s  dance.” 

The  Rev.  Dr.  William  Emerson,  of  Boston,  son  of  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson,  recently  made  a trip  through  the  South,  and 
one  Sunday  attended  a meeting  in  a colored  church.  The 
preacher  was  a white  man,  however,  a white  man  whose  first 
name  was  George,  and  evidently  a prime  favorite  with  the 


io6 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


colored  brethren.  When  the  service  was  over  Dr.  Emerson 
walked  home  behind  two  members  of  the  congregation,  and 
overheard  this  conversation : “Massa  George  am  a mos’  pow’- 

ful  preacher.”  “He  am  dat.”  “He’s  mos’s  pow’ful  as  Abraham 
Lincoln.”  “Huh ! He’s  mo’  pow’ful  dan  Lincoln.”  “He’s  mos’ 
’s  pow’ful  as  George  Washin’ton.”  “Huh!  He’s  mo’  pow’ful 
dan  Washin’ton.”  “Massa  George  ain’t  quite  as  pow’ful  as 
God.”  “N-n-o,  not  quite.  But  he’s  a young  man  yet.” 

Is  it  possible  your  pragmatical  worship  should  not  know  that 
the  comparisons  made  between  wit  and  wit,  courage  and  cour- 
age, beauty  and  beauty,  birth  and  birth,  are  always  odious  and 
ill  taken? — Cervantes. 


COMPENSATION 

“Speakin’  of  de  law  of  compensation,”  said  Uncle  Eben, 
“an  automobile  goes  faster  dan  a mule,  but  at  de  same  time  it 
hits  harder  and  balks  longer.” 

COMPETITION 

A new  baby  arrived  at  a house.  A little  girl — now  fifteen — 
had  been  the  pet  of  the  family.  Every  one  made  much  of  her, 
but  when  there  was  a new  baby  she  felt  rather  neglected. 

“How  are  you,  Mary?”  a visitor  asked  of  her  one  afternoon. 

“Oh,  I’m  all  right,”  she  said,  “except  that  I think  there  is 
too  much  competition  in  this  world.” 

A farmer  during  a long-continued  drought  invented  a ma- 
chine for  watering  his  fields.  The  very  first  day  while  he  was 
trying  it  there  suddenly  came  a downpour  of  rain.  He  put  away 
his  machine. 

“It’s  no  use,”  he  said ; “you  can  do  nothing  nowadays  without 
competition.” 


COMPLIMENTS 


Supper  was  in  progress,  and  the  father  was  telling  about  a 
row  which  took  place  in  front  of  his  store  that  morning:  “The 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


io  7 


first  thing  I saw  was  one  man  deal  the  other  a sounding  blow, 
and  then  a crowd  gathered.  The  man  who  was  struck  ran  and 
grabbed  a large  shovel  he  had  been  using  on  the  street,  and 
rushed  back,  his  eyes  blazing  fiercely.  I thought  he’d  surely 
knock  the  other  man’s  brains  out,  and  I stepped  right  in  be- 
tween them.” 

The  young  son  of  the  family  had  become  so  hugely  inter- 
ested in  the  narrative  as  it  proceeded  that  he  had  stopped  eating 
his  pudding.  So  proud  was  he  of  his  father’s  valor,  his  eyes 
fairly  shone,  and  he  cried : 

“He  couldn’t  knock  any  brains  out  of  you,  could  he, 
Father?” 

Father  looked  at  him  long  and  earnestly,  but  the  lad’s  coun- 
tenance was  frank  and  open. 

Father  gasped  slightly,  and  resumed  his  supper. 

See  also  Tact. 


COMPOSERS 

Recipe  for  the  musical  comedy  composer: 

Librettos  of  all  of  the  operas, 

Some  shears  and  a bottle  of  paste, 

Curry  the  hits  of  last  season, 

Add  tumpty-tee  tra  la  to  taste. 

—Life. 

COMPROMISES 

Boss — “There’s  $10  gone  from  my  cash  drawer,  Johnny; 
you  and  I were  the  only  people  who  had  keys  to  that  drawer.” 
Office  Boy — “Well,  s’pose  we  each  pay  $5  and  say  no  more 
about  it.” 


CONFESSIONS 

“You  say  Garston  made  a complete  confession?  What  did  he 
get — five  years?” 

“No,  fifty  dollars.  He  confessed  to  the  magazines  ."—Puck. 


io8 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Little  Ethel  had  been  brought  up  with  a firm  hand  and  was 
always  taught  to  report  misdeeds  promptly.  One  afternoon  she 
came  sobbing  penitently  to  her  mother. 

'‘Mother,  I — I broke  a brick  in  the  fireplace.” 

“Well,  it  might  be  worse.  But  how  on  earth  did  you  do  it, 
Ethel?” 

“I  pounded  it  with  your  watch.” 

“Confession  is  good  for  the  soul.” 

“Yes,  but  it’s  bad  for  the  reputation.” 

CONGRESS 

Congress  is  a national  inquisitorial  body  for  the  purpose  of 
acquiring  valuable  information  and  then  doing  nothing  about 
it. — Life. 

“Judging  from  the  stuff  printed  in  the  newspapers,”  says  a 
congressman,  “we  are  a pretty  bad  lot.  Almost  in  the  class  a 
certain  miss  whom  I know  unconsciously  puts  us  in.  It  was  at 
a recent  examination  at  her  school  that  the  question  was  put, 
‘Who  makes  the  laws  of  our  government  ?’ 

“ ‘Congress/  was  the  united  reply. 

“‘How  is  Congress  divided?’  was  the  next  query. 

“My  young  friend  raised  her  hand. 

“ ‘Well/  said  the  teacher,  ‘what  do  you  say  the  answer  is?’ 

“Instantly,  with  an  air  of  confidence  as  well  as  triumph,  the 
Miss  replied,  ‘Civilized,  half  civilized,  and  savage.’  ” 

CONGRESSMEN 

. It  was  at  a banquet  in  Washington  given  to  a large  body  of 
congressmen,  mostly  from  the  rural  districts.  The  tables  were 
elegant,  and  it  was  a scene  of  fairy  splendor ; but  on  one  table 
there  were  no  decorations  but  palm  leaves. 

“Here,”  said  a congressman  to  the  head  waiter,  “why  don’t 
you  put  them  things  on  our  table  too?”  pointing  to  the  plants. 

The  head  waiter  didn’t  know  he  was  a congressman. 

“We  cain’t  do  it,  boss,”  he  whispered  confidentially;  “dey’s 
mostly  congressmen  at  ’dis  table,  an’  if  we  put  pa’ms  on  de  table 
dey  take  um  for  celery  an’  eat  um  all  up  sho.  ’Deed  dey  would, 
boss.  We  knows  ’em.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


109 


Representative  X,  from  North  Carolina,  was  one  night 
awakened  by  his  wife,  who  whispered,  “John,  John,  get  up! 
There  are  robbers  in  the  house.” 

“Robbers?”  he  said.  “There  may  be  robbers  in  the  Senate, 
Mary;  but  not  in  the  House!  It’s  preposterous!” 

— John  N.  Cole , Jr. 

Champ  Clark  loves  to  tell  of  how  in  the  heat  of  a debate 
Congressman  Johnson  of  Indiana  called  an  Illinois  representative 
a jackass.  The  expression  was  unparliamentary,  and  in  retrac- 
tion Johnson  said : 

“While  I withdraw  the  unfortunate  word,  Mr.  Speaker,  I 
must  insist  that  the  gentleman  from  Illinois  is  out  of  order.” 

“How  am  I out  of  order?”  yelled  the  man  from  Illinois. 

“Probably  a veterinary  surgeon  could  tell  you,”  answered 
Johnson,  and  that  was  parliamentary  enough  to  stay  on  the 
record. 

A Georgia  Congressman  had  put  up  at  an  American-plan 
hotel  in  New  York.  When,  upon  sitting  down  at  dinner  the  first 
evening  of  his  stay,  the  waiter  obsequiously  handed  him  a bill  of 
fare,  the  Congressman  tossed  it  aside,  slipped  the  waiter  a dollar 
bill,  and  said,  “Bring  me  a good  dinner.” 

The  dinner  proving  satisfactory,  the  Southern  member  pur- 
sued this  plan  during  his  entire  stay  in  New  York.  As  the  last 
tip  was  given,  he  mentioned  that  he  was  about  to  return  to 
Washington. 

Whereupon,  the  waiter,  with  an  expression  of  great  earnest- 
ness, said: 

“Well,  sir,  when  you  or  any  of  your  friends  that  can’t  read 
come  to  New  York,  just  ask  for  Dick.” 

CONSCIENCE 

The  moral  of  this  story  may  be  that  it  is  better  to  heed  the 
warnings  of  the  “still  small  voice”  before  it  is  driven  to  the  use 
of  the  telephone. 

A New  York  lawyer,  gazing  idly  out  of  his  window,  saw  a 
sight  in  an  office  across  the  street  that  made  him  rub  his  eyes 
and  look  again.  Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it.  The  pretty 


no 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


stenographer  was  sitting  upon  the  gentleman’s  lap.  The  lawyer 
noticed  the  name  that  was  lettered  on  the  window  and  then 
searched  in  the  telephone  book.  Still  keeping  his  eye  upon  the 
scene  across  the  street,  he  called  the  gentleman  up.  In  a few 
moments  he  saw  him  start  violently  and  take  down  the  receiver. 

“Yes,”  said  the  lawyer  through  the  telephone,  “I  should 
think  you  would  start.” 

The  victim  whisked  his  arm  from  its  former  position  and 
began  to  stammer  something. 

“Yes,”  continued  the  lawyer  severely,  “I  think  you’d  better 
take  that  arm  away.  And  while  you’re  about  it,  as  long  as  there 
seems  to  be  plenty  of  chairs  in  the  room — ” 

The  victim  brushed  the  lady  from  his  lap,  rather  roughly,  it 
is  to  be  feared.  “Who-— who  the  devil  is  this,  anyhow?”  he 
managed  to  splutter. 

“I,”  answered  the  lawyer  in  deep,  impressive  tones,  “am 
your  conscience!” 

A quiet  conscience  makes  one  so  serene! 

Christians  have  burnt  each  other,  quite  persuaded 

That  all  the  Apostles  would  have  done  as  they  did. 

— Byron . 

Oh,  Conscience ! Conscience ! man’s  most  faithful  friend, 
Him  canst  thou  comfort,  ease,  relieve,  defend; 

But  if  he  will  thy  friendly  checks  forego, 

Thou  art,  oh ! woe  for  me  his  deadliest  foe ! 

— Crabbe. 

CONSEQUENCES 

A teacher  asked  her  class  in  spelling  to  state  the  difference 
between  the  words  “results”  and  “consequences.” 

A bright  girl  replied,  “Results  are  what  you  expect,  and 
consequences  are  what  you  get.” 

Consequences  are  unpitying.  Our  deeds  carry  their  terrible 
consequences,  quite  apart  from  any  fluctuations  that  went  before 
— consequences  that  are  hardly  ever  confined  to  ourselves. 

— George  Eliot. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


hi 


CONSIDERATION 

The  goose  had  been  carved  at  the  Christmas  dinner  and 
everybody  had  tasted  it.  It  was  excellent.  The  negro  minister, 
who  was  the  guest  of  honor,  could  not  restrain  his  enthusiasm. 

“Dat’s  as  fine  a goose  as  I evah  see,  Bruddah  Williams,”  he 
said  to  his  host.  “Whar  did  you  git  such  a fine  goose  ?” 

“Well,  now,  Pahson,”  replied  the  carver  of  the  goose,  ex- 
hibiting great  dignity  and  reticence,  “when  you  preaches  a 
speshul  good  sermon  I never  axes  you  whar  you  got  it.  I hopes 
you  will  show  me  de  same  considerashion.” 


A clergyman,  who  was  summoned  in  haste  by  a woman  who 
had  been  taken  suddenly  ill,  answered  the  call  though  somewhat 
puzzled  by  it,  for  he  knew  that  she  was  not  of  his  parish,  and 
was,  moreover,  known  to  be  a devoted  worker  in  another 
church.  While  he  was  waiting  to  be  shown  to  the  sick-room  he 
fell  to  talking  to  the  little  girl  of  the  house. 

“It  is  very  gratifying  to  know  that  your  mother  thought  of 
me  in  her  illness,”  said  he,  “Is  your  minister  out  of  town?” 
“Oh,  no,”  answered  the  child,  in  a matter-of-fact  tone. 
“He's  home ; only  we  thought  it  might  be  something  contagious, 
and  we  didn’t  want  to  take  any  risks.” 


CONSTANCY 

A soldier  belonging  to  a brigade  in  command  of  a General 
who  believed  in  a celibate  army  asked  permission  to  marry,  as 
he  had  two  good-conduct  badges  and  money  in  the  savings-bank. 

“Well,  go-away,”  • said  the  General,  “and  if  you  come  back 
to  me  a year  from  today  in  the  same  frame  of  mind  you  shall 
marry.  I’ll  keep  the  vacancy.” 

On  the  anniversary  the  soldier  repeated  his  request. 

“But  do  you  really,  after  a year,  want  to  marry?”  inquired 
the  General  in  a surprised  tone. 

“Yes,  sir;  very  much.” 


1 12 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Sergeant-Major,  take  his  name  down.  Yes,  you  may  marry. 
I never  believed  there  was  so  much  constancy  in  man  or  woman. 
Right  face ; quick  march  !” 

As  the  man  left  the  room,  turning  his  head,  he  said,  “Thank 
you,  sir;  but  it  isn’t  the  same  woman/’ 

CONTRIBUTION  BOX 

The  parson  looks  it  o’er  and  frets. 

It  puts  him  out  of  sorts 
To  see  how  many  times  he  gets 
A penny  for  his  thoughts. 

— J.  J.  O'Connell. 

There  were  introductions  all  around.  The  big  man  stared  in 
a puzzled  way  at  the  club  guest.  “You  look  like  a man  I’ve  seen 
somewhere,  Mr.  Blinker,”  he  said.  “Your  face  seems  familiar. 
I fancy  you  have  a double.  And  a funny  thing  about  it  is  that 
I remember  I formed  a strong  prejudice  against  the  man  who 
looks  like  you — although,  I’m  quite  sure,  we  never  met.” 

The  little  guest  softly  laughed.  “I’m  the  man,”  he  answered, 
“and  I know  why  you  formed  the  prejudice.  I passed  the  con- 
tribution plate  for  two  years  in  the  church  you  attended.” 

The  collections  had  fallen  off  badly  in  the  colored  church 
and  the  pastor  made  a short  address  before  the  box  was  passed. 

“I  don’  want  any  man  to  gib  mo’  dan  his  share,  bredern,”  he 
said  gently,  “but  we  mus’  all  gib  ercordin’  to  what  we  rightly 
hab.  I say  ‘rightly  hab,’  bredern,  because  we  don’t  want  no 
tainted  money  in  dis  box.  ‘Squire  Jones  tol’  me  dat  he  done 
miss  some  chickens  dis  week.  Now  if  any  of  our  bredern  hab 
fallen  by  de  wayside  in  connection  wif  dose  chickens  let  him 
stay  his  hand  from  de  box. 

“Now,  Deacon  Smiff,  please  pass  de  box  while  I watch  de 
signs  an’  see  if  dere’s  any  one  in  dis  congregation  dat  needs  me 
ter  wrastle  in  prayer  fer  him.” 


A newly  appointed  Scotch  minister  on  his  first  Sunday  of 
office  had  reason  to  complain  of  the  poorness  of  the  collection. 
“Mon,”  replied  one  of  the  elders,  “they  are  close — vera  close. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ii  3 

But,”  confidentially,  “the  auld  meenister  he  put  three  or  four 
saxpenses  into  the  plate  hissel’,  just  to  gie  them  a start.  Of 
course  he  took  the  saxpenses  awa’  with  him  afterward.”  The 
new  minister  tried  the  same  plan,  but  the  next  Sunday  he  again 
had  to  report  a dismal  failure.  The  total  collection  was  not  only 
small,  but  he  was  grieved  to  find  that  his  own  sixpences  were 
missing.  “Ye  may  be  a better  preacher  than  the  auld  meenister,” 
exclaimed  the  elder,  “but  if  ye  had  half  the  knowledge  o’  the 
world,  an’  o’  yer  ain  flock  in  particular,  ye’d  ha’  done  what  he  did 
an’  glued  the  saxpenses  to  the  plate.” 

Police  Commissioner — “If  you  were  ordered  to  disperse  a 
mob,  what  would  you  do?” 

Applicant — “Pass  around  the  hat,  sir.” 

Police  Commissioner — “That’ll  do;  you’re  engaged.” 

“I  advertized  that  the  poor  were  made  welcome  in  this 
church,”  said  the  vicar  to  his  congregation,  “and  as  the  offer- 
tory amounts  to  ninety-five  cents,  I see  that  they  have  come.” 


See  also  Salvation. 


CONUNDRUMS 

“Mose,  what  is  the  difference  between  a bucket  of  milk  in  a 
rain  storm  and  a conversation  between  two  confidence  men?” 

“Say,  boss,  dat  nut  am  too  hard  to  crack;  I’se  gwine  to  give 
it  up.” 

“Well,  Mose,  one  is  a thinning  scheme  and  the  other  is  a 
skinning  theme.” 

CONVERSATION 

“My  dog  understands  every  word  I say.” 

“Urn.” 

“Do  you  doubt  it?” 

“No,  I do  not  doubt  the  brute’s  intelligence.  The  scant  at- 
tention he  bestows  upon  your  conversation  would  indicate  that 
he  understands  it  perfectly.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


1 14 

The  Tall  and  Aggressive  One — “Excuse  me,  but  I’m  in  a 
hurry!  You’ve  had  that  phone  twenty  minutes  and  not  said  a 
word  l” 

The  Short  and  Meek  One — “Sir,  I’m  talking  to  my  wife.” 

— Puck. 


Hub  (during  a quarrel) — “You  talk  like  an  idiot.” 

Wife — “I’ve  got  to  talk  so  you  can  understand  me.” 

Irving  Bacheller,  it  appears,  was  on  a tramping  tour  through 
New  England.  He  discovered  a chin-bearded  patriarch  on  a 
roadside  rock. 

“Fine  corn,”  said  Mr.  Bacheller,  tentatively,  using  a hillside 
filled  with  straggling  stalks  as  a means  of  breaking  the  conversa- 
tional ice. 

“Best  in  Massachusetts,”  said  the  sitter. 

“How  do  you  plow  that  field?”  asked  Mr.  Bacheller.  “It  is 
so  very  steep.” 

“Don’t  plow  it,”  said  the  sitter.  “When  the  spring  thaws 
come,  the  rocks  rolling  down  hill  tear  it  up  so  that  we  can  plant 
corn.” 

“And  how  do  you  plant  it?”  asked  Mr.  Bacheller.  The  sitter 
said  that  he  didn’t  plant  it,  really.  He  stood  in  his  back  door 
and  shot  the  seed  in  with  a shotgun. 

“Is  that  the  truth?”  asked  Bacheller. 

“H — 11  no,”  said  the  sitter,  disgusted.  “That’s  conversation.” 

Conversation  is  the  laboratory  and  workshop  of  the  student. — 
Emerson. 

A single  conversation  across  the  table  with  a wise  man  is 
better  than  ten  years’  study  of  books. — Longfellow. 

COOKERY 

“John,  John,”  whispered  an  alarmed  wife,  poking  her  sleep- 
ing husband  in  the  ribs.  “Wake  up,  John;  there  are  burglars  in 
the  pantry  and  they’re  eating  all  my  pies.” 

“Well,  what  do  we  care,”  mumbled  John,  rolling  over,  “so 
long  as  they  don’t  die  in  the  house?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ii5 


“This  is  certainly  a modern  cook-book  in  every  way.” 

“How  so?” 

“It  says : ‘After  mixing  your  bread,  you  can  watch  two  reels 
at  the  movies  before  putting  it  in  the  oven/  ” — Puck . 


There  was  recently  presented  to  a newly-married  young 
woman  in  Baltimore  such  a unique  domestic  proposition  that  she 
felt  called  upon  to  seek  expert  advice  from  another  woman, 
whom  she  knew  to  possess  considerable  experience  in  the  cook- 
ing line. 

“Mrs.  Jones,”  said  the  first  mentioned  young  woman,  as  she 
breathlessly  entered  the  apartment  of  the  latter,  “I’m  sorry  to 
trouble  you,  but  I must  have  your  advice.” 

“What  is  the  trouble,  my  dear?” 

“Why,  I’ve  just  had  a ’phone  message  from  Harry,  saying 
that  he  is  going  out  this  afternoon  to  shoot  clay  pigeons.  Now, 
he’s  bound  to  bring  a lot  home,  and  I haven’t  the  remotest  idea 
how  to  cook  them.  Won’t  you  please  tell  me?” — Taylor  Ed- 
wards. 


Heaven  sends  us  good  meat,  but  the  devil  sends  us  cooks. — 
David  Garrick. 


See  Servants. 


COOKS 


CORNETS 

Spurgeon  was  once  asked  if  the  man  who  learned  to  play  a 
cornet  on  Sunday  would  go  to  heaven. 

The  great  preacher’s  reply  was  characteristic.  Said  he : “I 

don’t  see  why  he  should  not,  but” — after  a pause — “I  doubt 
whether  the  man  next  door  will.” 

CORNS 

Great  aches  from  little  toe-corns  grow. 


ii6 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


CORPULENCE 

The  wife  of  a prominent  Judge  was  making  arrangements 
with  the  colored  laundress  of  the  village  to  take  charge  of  their 
washing  for  the  summer.  Now,  the  Judge  was  pompous  and  ex- 
tremely fat.  He  tipped  the  scales  at  some  three  hundred  pounds. 

“Missus,”  said  the  woman,  “I’ll  do  your  washing,  but  Fse 
gwine  ter  charge  you  double  for  your  husband's  shirts.” 

“Why,  what  is  your  reason  for  that  Nancy,”  questioned  the 
mistress. 

“Well,”  said  the  laundress,  “I  don’t  mind  washing  fur  an 
ordinary  man,  but  I draws  de  line  on  circus  tents,  I sho’  do.” 


An  employee  of  a rolling  mill  was  on  his  vacation  when  he 
fell  in  love  with  a handsome  German  girl.  Upon  his  return  to 
the  works,  he  went  to  Mr.  Carnegie  and  announced  that  as  he 
wanted  to  get  married  he  would  like  a little  further  time  off. 
Mr.  Carnegie  appeared  much  interested.  “Tell  me  about  her,” 
he  said.  “Is  she  short  or  is  she  tall,  slender,  willowy?” 

“Well,  Mr.  Carnegie,”  was  the  answer,  “all  I can  say  is  that 
if  I’d  had  the  rolling  of  her,  I should  have  given  her  two  or  three 
more  passes.” 


A very  stout  old  lady,  bustling  through  the  park  on  a swelter- 
ing hot  day,  became  aware  that  she  was  being  closely  followed 
by  a rough-looking  tramp. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  following  me  in  this  manner?”  she 
indignantly  demanded.  The  tramp  slunk  back  a little.  But  when 
the  stout  lady  resumed  her  walk  he  again  took  up  his  position 
directly  behind  her. 

“See  here,”  she  exclaimed,  wheeling  angrily,  “if  you  don’t 
go  away  at  once  I shall  call  a policeman!” 

The  unfortunate  man  looked  up  at  her  appealingly. 

“For  Heaven’s  sake,  kind  lady,  have  mercy  an’  don’t  call  a 
policeman ; ye’re  the  only  shady  spot  in  the  whole  park.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


117 

A jolly  steamboat  captain  with  more  girth  than  height 
was  asked  if  he  had  ever  had  any  very  narrow  escapes. 

‘‘Yes/’  he  replied,  his  eyes  twinkling;  “once  I fell  off  my 
boat  at  the  mouth  of  Bear  Creek,  and,  although  I’m  an  expert 
swimmer,  I guess  I’d  be  there  now  if  it  hadn’t  been  for  my 
crew.  You  see  the  water  was  just  deep  enough  so’s  to  be  over 
my  head  when  I tried  to  wade  out,  and  just  shallow  enough” — 
he  gave  his  body  an  explanatory  pat — “so  that  whenever  I tried 
to  swim  out  I dragged  bottom.” 

A very  large  lady  entered  a street  car  and  a young  man  near 
the  door  rose  and  said : “I  will  be  one  of  three  to  give  the  lady 

a seat.” 

To  our  Fat  Friends:  May  their  shadows  never  grow  less. 

See  also  Dancing. 

COSMOPOLITANISM 

Secretary  of  State  Lazansky  refused  to  incorporate  the  Hell 
Cafe  of  New  York. 

“New  York’s  cafes  are  singular  enough,”  said  Mr.  Lazansky, 
“without  the  addition  of  such  a queerly  named  institution  as  the 
Hell.” 

He  smiled  and  added : 

“Is  there  anything  quite  so  queerly  cosmopolitan  as  a New 
York  cafe?  In  the  last  one  I visited,  I saw  a Portuguese,  a 
German  and  an  Italian,  dressed  in  English  clothes  and  seated  at 
a table  of  Spanish  walnut,  lunching  on  Russian  caviar,  French 
rolls,  Scotch  salmon,  Welsh  rabbit,  Swiss  cheese,  Dutch  cake 
and  Malaga  raisins.  They  drank  China  tea  and  Irish  whisky.” 

COST  OF  LIVING 

“Did  you  punish  our  son  for  throwing  a lump  of  coal  at 
Willie  Smiggs?”  asked  the  careful  mother. 

“I  did,”  replied  the  busy  father.  “I  don’t  care  so  much  for 
the  Smiggs  boy,  but  I can’t  have  anybody  in  this  family  throwing 
coal  around  like  that.” 


n8 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


'‘Live  within  your  income,”  was  a maxim  uttered  by  Mr. 
Carnegie  on  his  seventy-sixth  birthday.  This  is  easy;  the  diffi- 
culty is  to  live  without  it. — Satire. 


“You  say  your  jewels  were  stolen  while  the  family  was  at 
dinner?” 

“No,  no!  This  is  an  important  robbery.  Our  dinner  was 
stolen  while  we  were  putting  on  our  jewels.” 

A grouchy  butcher,  who  had  watched  the  price  of  porterhouse 
steak  climb  the  ladder  of  fame,  was  deep  in  the  throes  of  an  un- 
usually bad  grouch  when  a would-be  customer,  eight  years  old, 
approached  him  and  handed  him  a penny. 

“Please,  mister,  I want  a cent’s  worth  of  sausage.” 

Turning  on  the  youngster  with  a growl,  he  let  forth  this 
burst  of  good  salesmanship : 

“Go  smell  o’  the  hook!” 

Tom — “My  pa  is  very  religious.  He  always  bows  his  head 
and  says  something  before  meals.” 

Dick — “Mine  always  says  something  when  he  sits  down  to 
eat,  but  he  don’t  bow  his  head.” 

Tom — “What  does  he  say?” 

Dick — “Go  easy  on  the  butter,  kids,  it’s  forty  cents  a 
pound.” 


COUNTRY  LIFE 

Bilter  (at  servants’  agency) — “Have  you  got  a cook  who 
will  go  to  the  country?” 

Manager  (calling  out  to  girls  in  next  room) — “Is  there  any 
one  here  who  would  like  to  spend  a day  in  the  country?” — Life. 

Visitor — “You  have  a fine  road  leading  from  the  station.” 
Sububs — “That’s  the  path  worn  by  servant-girls.” 


See  also  Commuters ; Servants. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


119 


COURAGE 

Aunt  Ethel — “Well,  Beatrice,  were  you  very  brave  at  the 
dentist’s?” 

Beatrice — “Yes,  auntie,  I was.” 

Aunt  Ethel — “Then,  there’s  the  half  crown  I promised  you. 
And  now  tell  me  what  he  did  to  you.” 

Beatrice — “He  pulled  out  two  of  Willie’s  teeth!” — Punch. 

He  was  the  small  son  of  a bishop,  and  his  mother  was  teach- 
ing him  the  meaning  of  courage. 

“Supposing,”  she  said,  “there  were  twelve  boys  in  one  bed- 
room, and  eleven  got  into  bed  at  once,  while  the  other  knelt 
down  to  say  his  prayers,  that  boy  would  show  true  courage.” 
“Oh !”  said  the  young  hopeful.  “I  know  something  that 
would  be  more  courageous  than  that ! Supposing  there  were 
twelve  bishops  in  one  bedroom,  and  one  got  into  bed  without 
saying  his  prayers !” 

Courage,  the  highest  gift,  that  scorns  to  bend 
To  mean  devices  for  a sordid  end. 

Courage — an  independent  spark  from  Heaven’s  bright  throne, 
By  which  the  soul  stands  raised,  triumphant,  high,  alone. 
Great  in  itself,  not  praises  of  the  crowd, 

Above  all  vice,  it  stoops  not  to  be  proud. 

Courage,  the  mighty  attribute  of  powers  above, 

By  which  those  great  in  war,  are  great  in  love. 

The  spring  of  all  brave  acts  is  seated  here, 

As  falsehoods  draw  their  sordid  birth  from  fear. 

— Farquhar . 

COURTESY 

The  mayor  of  a French  town  had,  in  accordance  with  the 
regulations,  to  make  out  a passport  for  a rich  and  highly  re- 
spectable lady  of  his  acquaintance,  who,  in  spite  of  a slight  dis- 
figurement, was  very  vain  of  her  personal  appearance.  His 
native  politeness  prompted  him  to  gloss  over  the  defect,  and, 
after  a moment’s  reflection,  he  wrote  among  the  items  of  per- 
sonal description:  “Eyes  dark,  beautiful,  tender,  expressive,  but 
one  of  them  missing.” 


120 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Mrs.  Taft,  at  a diplomatic  dinner,  had  for  a neighbor  a dis- 
tinguished French  traveler  who  boasted  a little  unduly  of  his 
nation’s  politeness. 

“We  French,”  the  traveler  declared,  “are  the  politest  people 
in  the  world.  Every  one  acknowledges  it.  You  Americans  are 
a remarkable  nation,  but  the  French  excel  you  in  politeness.  You 
admit  it  yourself,  don’t  you?” 

Mrs.  Taft  smiled  delicately. 

“Yes,”  she  said.  “That  is  our  politeness.” 


Justice  Moody  was  once  riding  on  the  platform  of  a Boston 
street  car  standing  next  to  the  gate  that  protected  passengers 
from  cars  coming  on  the  other  track.  A Boston  lady  came  to 
the  door  of  the  car  and,  as  it  stopped,  started  toward  the  gate, 
which  was  hidden  from  her  by  the  man  standing  before  it. 

“Other  side,  lady,”  said  the  conductor. 

He  was  ignored  as  only  a born-and-bred  Bostonian  can  ignore 
a man.  The  lady  took  another  step  toward  the  gate. 

“You  must  get  off  the  other  side,”  said  the  conductor. 

“I  wish  to  get  off  on  this  side,”  came  the  answer,  in  tones 
that  congealed  that  official.  Before  he  could  explain  or  ex- 
postulate Mr.  Moody  came  to  his  assistance. 

“Stand  to  one  side,  gentlemen,”  he  remarked  quietly.  “The 
lady  wishes  to  climb  over  the  gate.” 


COURTS 

One  day  when  old  Thaddeus  Stevens  was  practicing  in  the 
courts  he  didn’t  like  the  ruling  of  the  presiding  Judge.  A 
second  time  when  the  Judge  ruled  against  “old  Thad,”  the  old 
man  got  up  with  scarlet  face  and  quivering  lips  and  commenced 
tying  up  his  papers  as  if  to  quit  the  courtroom. 

“Do  I understand,  Mr.  Stevens,”  asked  the  Judge,  eying 
“old  Thad”  indignantly,  “that  you  wish  to  show  your  contempt 
for  this  court?” 

“No,  sir;  no,  sir,”  replied  “old  Thad.”  “I  don’t  want  to 
show  my  contempt,  sir ; I’m  trying  to  conceal  it.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


121 


“It’s  all  right  to  fine  me,  Judge,”  laughed  Barrowdale,  after 
the  proceedings  were  over,  “but  just  the  same  you  were  ahead 
of  me  in  your  car,  and  if  I was  guilty  you  were  too.” 

“Ya’as,  I know,”  said  the  judge  with  a chuckle,  “I  found 
myself  guilty  and  hev  jest  paid  my  fine  into  the  treasury  same  ez 
you.” 

“Bully  for  you !”  said  Barrowdale.  “By  the  way,  do  you  put 
these  fines  back  into  the  roads?” 

“No,”  said  the  judge.  “They  go  to  the  trial  jestice  in  loo  o’ 
sal’ry” 

A stranger  came  into  an  Augusta  bank  the  other  day  and 
presented  a check  for  which  he  wanted  the  equivalent  in  cash. 

“Have  to  be  identified,”  said  the  clerk. 

The  stranger  took  a bunch  of  letters  from  his  pocket  all 
addressed  to  the  same  name  as  that  on  the  check. 

The  clerk  shook  his  head. 

The  man  thought  a minute  and  pulled  out  his  watch,  which 
bore  the  name  on  its  inside  cover. 

Clerk  hardly  glanced  at  it. 

The  man  dug  into  his  pockets  and  found  one  of  those 
“If-I-should-die-tonight-please-notify-my-wife”  cards,  and  called 
the  clerk’s  attention  to  the  description,  which  fitted  to  a T. 

But  the  clerk  was  still  obdurate. 

“Those  things  don’t  prove  anything,”  he  said.  “We’ve  got 
to  have  the  word  of  a man  that  we  know.” 

“But,  man,  I’ve  given  you  an  identification  that  would  convict 
me  of  murder  in  any  court  in  the  land.” 

“That’s  probably  very  true,”  responded  the  clerk,  patiently, 
“but  in  matters  connected  with  the  bank  we  have  to  be  more 
careful.” 

See  also  Jury;  Witnesses. 

COURTSHIP 

“Do  you  think  a woman  believes  you  when  you  tell  her  she 
is  the  first  girl  you  ever  loved?” 

“Yes,  if  you’re  the  first  liar  she  has  ever  met.” 


122 


T O AST  ER’S  HANDBOOK 


Augustus  Fitzgibbons  Moran 
Fell  in  love  with  Maria  McCann. 

With  a yell  and  a whoop 
He  cleared  the  front  stoop 
Just  ahead  of  her  papa’s  brogan. 

Spoonleigh — “Does  your  sister  always  look  under  the  bed?” 

Her  Little  Brother — “Yes,  and  when  you  come  to  see  her 
she  always  looks  under  the  sofa.” — J.  J.  O'Connell. 

There  was  a young  man  from  the  West, 

Who  loved  a young  lady  with  zest; 

So  hard  did  he  press  her 
To  make  her  say,  “Yes,  sir,” 

That  he  broke  three  cigars  in  his  vest 

“I  hope  your  father  does  not  object  to  my  staying  so  late,” 
said  Mr.  Stayput  as  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

“Oh,  dear,  no,”  replied  Miss  Dabbs,  with  difficulty  suppressing 
a yawn,  “He  says  you  save  him  the  expense  of  a night-watch- 
man.” 

There  was  an  old  monk  of  Siberia, 

Whose  existence  grew  drearier  and  drearier ; 

He  burst  from  his  cell 
With  a hell  of  a yell, 

And  eloped  with  the  Mother  Superior. 

It  was  scarcely  half-past  nine  when  the  rather  fierce-looking 
father  of  the  girl  entered  the  parlor  where  the  timid  lover  was 
courting  her.  The  father  had  his  watch  in  his  hand. 

“Young  man,”  he  said  brusquely,  “do  you  know  what  time 
it  is?” 

“Y-y-yes  sir,”  stuttered  the  frightened  lover,  as  he  scram- 
bled out  into  the  hall;  “I — I was  just  going  to  leave!” 

After  the  beau  had  made  a rapid  exit,  the  father  turned  to 
the  girl  and  said  in  astonishment: 

“What  was  the  matter  with  that  fellow?  My  watch  has  run 
down,  and  I simply  wanted  to  know  the  time.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


123 


“What  were  you  and  Mr.  Smith  talking  about  in  the  parlor?” 
asked  her  mother.  “Oh,  we  were  discussing  our  kith  and  kin,” 
replied  the  young  lady. 

The  mother  look  dubiously  at  her  daughter,  whereupon  her 
little  brother,  wishing  to  help  his  sister,  said : 

“Yeth  they  wath,  Mother.  I heard  ’em.  Mr.  Thmith  asked 
her  for  a kith  and  she  thaid,  'You  kin.’  ” 


During  a discussion  of  the  fitness  of  things  in  general  some 
one  asked:  “If  a young  man  takes  his  best  girl  to  the  grand 

opera,  spends  $8  on  a supper  after  the  performance,  and  then 
takes  her  home  in  a taxicab,  should  he  kiss  her  goodnight?” 

An  old  bachelor  who  was  present  growled : “I  don’t  think 

she  ought  to  expect  it.  Seems  to  me  he  has  done  enough  for 
her.” 


A young  woman  who  was  about  to  wed  decided  at  the  last 
moment  to  test  her  sweetheart.  So,  selecting  the  prettiest  girl 
she  knew,  she  said  to  her,  though  she  knew  it  was  a great  risk. 

“I’ll  arrange  for  Jack  to  take  you  out  tonight — a walk  on 
the  beach  in  the  moonlight,  a lobster  supper  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing — and  I want  you,  in  order  to  put  his  fidelity  to  the  proof, 
to  ask  him  for  a kiss.” 

The  other  girl  laughed,  blushed  and  assented.  The  danger- 
ous plot  was  carried  out.  Then  the  next  day  the  girl  in  love 
visited  the  pretty  one  and  said  anxiously: 

“Well,  did  you  ask  him?” 

“No,  dear.” 

“No?  Why  not?” 

“I  didn’t  get  a chance.  He  asked  me  first.” 


Uncle  Nehemiah,  the  proprietor  of  a ramshackle  little  hotel 
in  Mobile,  was  aghast  at  finding  a newly  arrived  guest  with  his 
arm  around  his  daughter’s  waist. 

“Mandy,  tell  that  niggah  to  take  his  arm  from  around  yo’ 
wais’,”  he  indignantly  commanded. 

“Tell  him  you’self,”  said  Amanda.  “He’s  a puffect  stranger 
to  me.” 


124 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“Jack  and  I have  parted  forever.” 

“Good  gracious!  What  does  that  mean?” 

“Means  that  I’ll  get  a five-pound  box  of  candy  in  about  an 
hour” 


Here’s  to  solitaire  with  a partner, 

The  only  game  in  which  one  pair  beats  three  of  a kind. 


See  also  Love;  Proposals. 


COWARDS 

Mrs.  Hicks  was  telling  some  ladies  about  the  burglar  scare  in 
her  house  the  night  before. 

“Yes,”  she  said,  “I  heard  a noise  and  got  up,  and  there,  from 
under  the  bed,  I saw  a man’s  legs  sticking  out.” 

“Mercy!”  exclaimed  a woman.  “The  burglar’s  legs?” 

“No,  my  dear;  my  husband’s  legs.  He  heard  the  noise,  too.” 


Mrs.  Peck — “Henry,  what  would  you  do  if  burglars  broke 
into  our  house  some  night?” 

Mr.  Peck  ( valiantly ) — “Humph!  I should  keep  perfectly 
cool,  my  dear.” 

And  when,  a few  nights  later,  burglars  did  break  in,  Henry 
kept  his  promise:  he  hid  in  the  ice-box. 


Johnny  hasn’t  been  to  school  long,  but  he  already  holds  some 
peculiar  views  regarding  the  administration  of  his  particular 
room. 

The  other  day  he  came  home  with  a singularly  morose  look 
on  his  usually  smiling  face. 

“Why,  Johnny,”  said  his  mother,  “what’s  the  matter?” 

“I  ain’t  going  to  that  old  school  no  more,”  he  fiercely  an- 
nounced. 

“Why,  Johnny,”  said  his  mother  reproachfully,  “you  mustn’t 
talk  like  that.  What’s  wrong  with  the  school?” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


125 


“I  ain't  goin’  there  no  more,”  Johnny  replied;  “an'  it’s  be- 
cause all  th’  boys  in  my  room  is  blamed  old  cowards !” 

“Why,  Johnny,  Johnny!” 

“Yes,  they  are.  There  was  a boy  whisperin’  this  mornin’,  an’ 
teacher  saw  him  an’  bumped  his  head  on  th’  desk  ever  an’  ever 
so  many  times.  An’  those  big  cowards  sat  there  an’  didn’t  say 
quit  nor  nothin’.  They  let  that  old  teacher  bang  th’  head  off  th’ 
poor  little  boy,  an’  they  just  sat  there  an’  seen  her  do  it!” 

“And  what  did  you  do,  Johnny?” 

“I  didn’t  do  nothin’ — I was  the  boy !” — Cleveland  Plain 
Dealer. 

A negro  came  running  down  the  lane  as  though  the  Old  Boy 
were  after  him. 

“What  are  you  running  for,  Mose?”  called  the  colonel  from 
the  barn. 

“I  ain’t  a-runnin’  fo’,”  shouted  back  Mose.  “I’se  a-runnin’ 
from !” 


COWS 

Little  Willie,  being  a city  boy,  had  never  seen  a cow.  While 
on  a visit  to  his  grandmother  he  walked  out  across  the  fields 
with  his  cousin  John.  A cow  was  grazing  there,  and  Willie’s 
curiosity  was  greatly  excited. 

“Oh,  Cousin  John,  what  is  that?”  he  asked. 

“Why,  that  is  only  a cow,”  John  replied. 

“And  what  are  those  things  on  her  head  ?” 

“Horns,”  answered  John. 

Before  they  had  gone  far  the  cow  mooed  long  and  loud. 

Willie  was  astounded.  Looking  back,  he  demanded,  in  a very 
fever  of  interest: 

“Which  horn  did  she  blow?” 

There  was  an  old  man  who  said,  “How 
Shall  I flee  from  this  horrible  cow? 

I will  sit  on  this  stile 
And  continue  to  smile, 

Which  may  soften  the  heart  of  that  cow.” 


126 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


CRITICISM 

First  Music  Critic — “I  wasted  a whole  evening  by  going  to 
that  new  pianist’s  concert  last  night!” 

Second  Music  Critic — '‘Why?” 

First  Music  Critic — “His  playing  was  above  criticism !” 

As  soon 

Seek  roses  in  December — ice  in  June, 

Hope,  constancy  in  wind,  or  corn  in  chaff; 

Believe  a woman  or  an  epitaph, 

Or  any  other  thing  that’s  false,  before 
You  trust  in  critics. 

— Byrdn. 

It  is  much  easier  to  be  critical  than  to  be  correct. — Disraeli. 
See  also  Dramatic  criticism. 

CRUELTY 

“Why  do  you  beat  your  little  son?  It  was  the  cat  that  upset 
the  vase  of  flowers.” 

“I  can’t  beat  the  cat.  I belong  to  the  S.  P.  C.  A.” 
CUCUMBERS 

Consider  the  ways  of  the  little  green  cucumber,  which  never 
does  its  best  fighting  till  it’s  down. — Stanford  Chaparral. 

CULTURE 


See  Kultur. 


CURFEW 

A former  resident  of  Marshall,  Mo.,  was  asking  about  the 
old  town. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


12  7 


“I  understand  they  have  a curfew  law  out  there  now,”  he 
said. 

“No,”  his  informant  answered,  “they  did  have  one,  but  they 
abandoned  it.” 

“What  was  the  matter?” 

“Well,  the  bell  rang  at  9 o’clock,  and  almost  everyone  com- 
plained that  it  woke  them  up.” 

CURIOSITY 

The  Christmas  church  services  were  proceeding  very  success- 
fully when  a woman  in  the  gallery  got  so  interested  that  she 
leaned  out  too  far  and  fell  over  the  railing.  Her  dress  caught 
in  a chandelier,  and  she  was  suspended  in  mid-air.  The  minister 
noticed  her  undignified  position  and  thundered  at  the  congrega- 
tion : 

“Any  person  in  this  congregation  who  turns  around  will  be 
struck  stone-blind.” 

A man,  whose  curiosity  was  getting  the  better  of  him,  but 
who  dreaded  the  clergyman’s  warning,  finally  turned  to  his  com- 
panion and  said: 

“I’m  going  to  risk  one  eye.” 

A one-armed  man  entered  a restaurant  at  noon  and  seated 
himself  next  to  a dapper  little  other-people’s-business  man.  The 
latter  at  once  noticed  his  neighbor’s  left  sleeve  hanging  loose 
and  kept  eying  it  in  a how-did-it-happen  sort  of  a way.  The 
one-armed  man  paid  no  attention  to  him  but  kept  on  eating  with 
his  one  hand.  Finally  the  inquisitive  one  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
He  changed  his  position  a little,  cleared  his  throat,  and  said: 
“I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I see  you  have  lost  an  arm.” 

The  one-armed  man  picked  up  his  sleeve  with  his  right  hand 
and  peered  anxiously  into  it.  “Bless  my  soul !”  he  exclaimed, 
looking  up  with  great  surprise.  “I  do  believe  you’re  right.” 

See  also  Wives. 

CYCLONES 


See  Windfalls. 


128 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


DACHSHUNDS 

A little  boy  was  entertaining  the  minister  the  other  day  until 
his  mother  could  complete  her  toilet.  The  minister,  to  make 
congenial  conversation,  inquired:  “Have  you  a dog?” 

“Yes,  sir;  a dachshund,”  responded  the  lad. 

“Where  is  he?”  questioned  the  dominie,  knowing  the  way 
to  a boy’s  heart. 

“Father  sends  him  away  for  the  winter.  He  says  it  takes 
him  so  long  to  go  in  and  out  of  the  door  he  cools  the  whole 
house  off.” 

DAMAGES 

A Chicago  lawyer  tells  of  a visit  he  received  from  a Mrs. 
Delehanty,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Delehanty,  the  day  after  Mrs. 
Delehanty  and  a Mrs.  Cassidy  had  indulged  in  a little  difference 
of  opinion. 

When  he  had  listened  to  the  recital  of  Mrs.  Delehanty’s 
troubles,  the  lawyer  said: 

“You  want  to  get  damages,  I suppose?” 

“Damages  ! Damages !”  came  in  shrill  tones  from  Mrs.  Dele- 
hanty. “Haven’t  I got  damages  enough  already,  man?  What 
I’m  after  is  satisfaction.” 

A Chicago  man  who  was  a passenger  on  a train  that  met 
with  an  accident  not  far  from  that  city  tells  of  a curious  in- 
cident that  he  witnessed  in  the  car  wherein  he  was  sitting. 

Just  ahead  of  him  were  a man  and  his  wife.  Suddenly  the 
train  was  derailed,  and  went  bumping  down  a steep  hill.  The 
man  evinced  signs  of  the  greatest  terror;  and  when  the  car  came 
to  a stop  he  carefully  examined  himself  to  learn  whether  he  had 
received  any  injury.  After  ascertaining  that  he  was  unhurt,  he 
thought  of  his  wife  and  damages. 

“Are  you  hurt,  dear?”  he  asked. 

“No,  thank  Heaven!”  was  the  grateful  response. 

“Look  here,  then,”  continued  hubby,  “I’ll  tell  you  what  we’ll 
do.  You  let  me  black  your  eye,  and  we’ll  soak  the  company 
good  for  damages!  It  won’t  hurt  you  much.  I’ll  give  you  just 
one  good  punch.” — Howard  Morse . 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


129 


Up  in  Minnesota  Mr.  Olsen  had  a cow  killed  by  a railroad 
train.  In  due  season  the  claim  agent  for  the  railroad  called. 

“We  understand,  of  course,  that  the  deceased  was  a very 
docile  and  valuable  animal/’  said  the  claim  agent  in  his  most 
persuasive  claim-agentlemanly  manner  “and  we  sympathize  with 
you  and  your  family  in  your  loss.  But,  Mr.  Olsen,  you  must 
remember  this:  Your  cow  had  no  business  being  upon  our 

tracks.  Those  tracks  are  our  private  property  and  when  she  in- 
vaded them,  she  became  a trespasser.  Technically  speaking,  you, 
as  her  owner,  became  a trespasser  also.  But  we  have  no  desire 
to  carry  the  issue  into  court  and  possibly  give  you  trouble.  Now 
then,  what  would  you  regard  as  a fair  settlement  between  you 
and  the  railroad  company?” 

“Vail,”  said  Mr.  Olsen  slowly,  “Ay  bane  poor  Swede  farmer, 
but  Ay  shall  give  you  two  dollars.” 

DANCING 

He  was  a remarkably  stout  gentleman,  excessively  fond  of 
dancing,  so  his  friends  asked  him  why  he  had  stopped,  and  was 
it  final? 

“Oh,  no,  I hope  not,”  sighed  the  old  fellow.  “I  still  love  it, 
and  I’ve  merely  stopped  until  I can  find  a concave  lady  for  a 
partner.” 

George  Bernard  Shaw  was  recently  entertained  at  a house 
party.  While  the  other  guests  were  dancing,  one  of  the  onlook- 
ers called  Mr.  Shaw’s  attention  to  the  awkward  dancing  of  a 
German  professor. 

“Really  horrid  dancing,  isn’t  it,  Mr.  Shaw?” 

G.  B.  S.  was  not  at  a loss  for  the  true  Shavian  response. 
“Oh  that’s  not  dancing”  he  answered.  “That’s  the  New  Ethical 
Movement !” 

On  a journey  through  the  South  not  long  ago,  Wu  Ting  Fang 
was  impressed  by  the  preponderance  of  negro  labor  in  one  of 
the  cities  he  visited.  Wherever  the  entertainment  committee  led 
him,  whether  to  factory,  store  or  suburban  plantation,  all  the 
hard  work  seemed  to  be  borne  by  the  black  men. 


130 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Minister  Wu  made  no  comment  at  the  time,  but  in  the  even- 
ing when  he  was  a spectator  at  a ball  given  in  his  honor,  after 
watching  the  waltzing  and  two-stepping  for  half  an  hour,  he  re- 
marked to  his  host: 

“Why  don't  you  make  the  negroes  do  that  for  you,  too?” 

If  they  had  danced  the  tango  and  the  trot 
In  days  of  old,  there  is  no  doubt  we’d  find 
The  poet  would  have  written — would  he  not? — 

“On  with  the  dance,  let  joy  be  unrefined!” 

J.  J.  O’Connell  — 

DEAD  BEATS 

See  Bills;  Collecting  of  accounts. 

DEBTS 

A train  traveling  through  the  West  was  held  up  by  masked 
bandits.  Two  friends,  who  were  on  their  way  to  California, 
were  among  the  passengers. 

“Here’s  where  we  lose  all  our  money,”  one  said,  as  a rob- 
ber entered  the  car. 

“You  don’t  think  they’ll  take  everything,  do  you?”  the  other 
asked  nervously. 

“Certainly,”  the  first  replied.  “These  fellows  never  miss  any- 
thing.” 

“That  will  be  terrible,”  the  second  friend  said.  “Are  you 
quite  sure  they  won’t  leave  us  any  money?”  he  persisted. 

“Of  course,”  was  the  reply.  “Why  do  you  ask?” 

The  other  was  silent  for  a minute.  Then,  taking  a fifty- 
dollar  note  from  his  pocket,  he  handed  it  to  his  friend. 

“What  is  this  for?”  the  first  asked,  taking  the  money. 

“That’s  the  fifty  dollars  I owe  you,”  the  other  answered. 
“Now  we’re  square.” — W.  Dayton  Wegefarth. 

Willis — “He  calls  himself  a dynamo.” 

Gillis — “No  wonder;  everything  he  has  on  is  charged.” 

— Judge. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


131 


Anticipated  rents,  and  bills  unpaid, 

Force  many  a shining  youth  into  the  shade, 

Not  to  redeem  his  time,  but  his  estate, 

And  play  the  fool,  but  at  the  cheaper  rate. 

— Cowper. 

I hold  every  man  a debtor  to  his  profession. — Bacon. 
DEER 

“The  deer’s  a mighty  useful  beast 
From  Petersburg  to  Tennyson 
“For  while  he  lives  he  lopes  around 
And  when  he’s  dead  he’s  venison.” 

— Ellis  Parker  Butler . 


DEGREES 

A young  theologian  named  Fiddle 
Refused  to  accept  his  degree; 

“For,”  said  he,  “ ’tis  enough  to  be  Fiddle, 
Without  being  Fiddle  D.  D.” 

DEMOCRACY 

“Why  are  you  so  vexed,  Irma?” 

“I  am  so  exasperated ! I attended  the  meeting  of  the  Social 
Equality  League,  and  my  parlor-maid  presided,  and  she  had  the 
audacity  to  call  me  to  order  three  times.” — M.  L.  Hayward . 


See  also  Ancestry. 

DEMOCRATIC  PARTY 

Hospital  Physician — “Which  ward  do  you  wish  to  be  taken 
to?  A pay  ward  or  a ” 

Maloney — “Iny  of  thim,  Doc,  thot’s  safely  Dimocratic.” 


132 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


DENTISTRY 

Our  young  hopeful  came  running  into  the  house.  His  suit 
was  dusty,  and  there  was  a bump  on  his  small  brow.  But  a 
gleam  was  in  his  eye,  and  he  held  out  a baby  tooth. 

“How  did  you  pull  it?”  demanded  his  mother. 

“Oh,”  he  said  bravely,  “it  was  easy  enough.  I just  fell  down, 
and  the  whole  world  came  up  and  pushed  it  out.” 


DENTISTS 

The  dentist  is  one  who  pulls  out  the  teeth  of  others  to  obtain 
employment  for  his  own. 

One  day  little  Flora  was  taken  to  have  an  aching  tooth  re- 
moved. That  night,  while  she  was  saying  her  prayers,  her 
mother  was  surprised  to  hear  her  say:  “And  forgive  us  our 

debts  as  we  forgive  our  dentists.” — Everybody  s. 

One  said  a tooth  drawer  was  a kind  of  unconscionable  trade, 
because  his  trade  was  nothing  else  but  to  take  away  those  things 
whereby  every  man  gets  his  living. — Hazlitt. 

DESCRIPTION 

A popular  soprano  is  said  to  have  a voice  of  fine  timbre,  a 
willowy  figure,  cherry  lips,  chestnut  hair,  and  hazel  eyes.  She 
must  have  been  raised  in  the  lumber  regions. — Ella  Hutchison 
Ellwanger. 


DESIGN,  DECORATIVE 

Harold  watched  his  mother  as  she  folded  up  an  intricate 
piece  of  lace  she  had  just  crocheted. 

“Where  did  you  get  the  pattern,  Mamma?”  he  questioned. 
“Out  of  my  head,”  she  answered  lightly. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


133 


“Does  your  head  feel  better  now,  Mamma?”  he  asked 
anxiously. — C.  Hilton  Turvey. 

DESTINATION 

A Washington  car  conductor,  born  in  London  and  still  a 
cockney,  has  succeeded  in  extracting  thrills  from  the  alphabet — 
imparting  excitement  to  the  names  of  the  national  capital's 
streets.  On  a recent  Sunday  morning  he  was  calling  the  streets 
thus 

“Haitch !” 

“High  1” 

“Jay!” 

“Kay !” 

“Hell  !” 

At  this  point  three  prim  ladies  picked  up  their  prayer-books 
and  left  the  car. — Lippincott’s  Magazine. 

Andrew  Lang  once  invited  a friend  to  dinner  when  he  was 
staying  in  Marlowe’s  road,  Earl’s  Court,  a street  away  at  the  end 
of  that  long  Cromwell  road,  which  seems  to  go  on  forever. 
The  guest  was  not  very  sure  how  to  get  there,  so  Lang  ex- 
plained : 

“Walk  right  along  Cromwell  road,”  he  said,  “till  you  drop 
dead  and  my  house  is  just  opposite !” 

DETAILS 

Charles  Frohman  was  talking  to  a Philadelphia  reporter 
about  the  importance  of  detail. 

“Those  who  work  for  me,”  he  said,  “follow  my  directions 
down  to  the  very  smallest  item.  To  go  wrong  in  detail,  you 
know,  is  often  to  go  altogether  wrong — like  the  dissipated  hus- 
band. 

“A  dissipated  husband  as  he  stood  before  his  house  in  the 
small  hours  searching  for  his  latchkey,  muttered  to  himself : 

“ ‘Now  which  did  my  wife  say — hie — have  two  whishkies  an’ 
get  home  by  12,  or — hie — have  twelve  whishkies  an’  get  home 
by  2?’” 


134 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


DETECTIVES 

When  Conan  Doyle  arrived  for  the  first  time  in  Boston  he 
was  instantly  recognized  by  the  cabman  whose  vehicle  he  had 
engaged.  When  the  great  literary  man  offered  to  pay  his  fare 
the  cabman  said  quite  respectfully: 

“If  you  please,  sir,  I should  much  prefer  a ticket  to  your 
lecture.  If  you  should  have  none  with  you  a visiting-card  pen- 
ciled by  yourself  would  do.” 

Conan  Doyle  laughed. 

“Tell  me,”  he  said,  “how  did  you  know  who  I was,  and  I 
will  give  you  tickets  for  your  whole  family.” 

“Thank  you  sir,”  was  the  reply.  “Why,  we  all  knew — that  is, 
all  the  members  of  the  Cabmen’s  Literary  Guild  knew — that  you 
were  coming  by  this  train.  I happen  to  be  the  only  member  on 
duty  at  the  station  this  morning.  If  you  will  excuse  personal  re- 
marks your  coat  lapels  are  badly  twisted  downward  where  they 
have  been  grasped  by  the  pertinacious  New  York  reporters.  Your 
hair  has  the  Quakerish  cut  of  a Philadelphia  barber,  and  your 
hat,  battered  at  the  brim  in  front,  shows  where  you  have  tightly 
grasped  it  in  the  struggle  to  stand  your  ground  at  a Chicago 
literary  luncheon.  Your  right  overshoe  has  a large  block  of 
Buffalo  mud  just  under  the  instep,  the  odor  of  a Utica  cigar 
hangs  about  your  clothing,  and  the  overcoat  itself  shows  the 
slovenly  brushing  of  the  porters  of  the  through  sleepers  from 
Albany,  and  stenciled  upon  the  very  end  of  the  ‘Wellington’  in 
fairly  plain  lettering  is  your  name,  ‘Conan  Doyle.’  ” 

DETERMINATION 

After  the  death  of  Andrew  Jackson  the  following  conversa- 
tion is  said  to  have  occurred  between  an  Anti-Jackson  broker 
and  a Democratic  merchant : 

Merchant  ( with  a sigh ) — “Well,  the  old  General  is  dead.” 

Broker  (with  a shrug ) — “Yes,  he’s  gone  at  last” 

Merchant  ( not  appreciating  the  shrug) — “Well,  sir,  he  was 
a good  man.” 

Broker  ( with  shrug  more  pronounced) — “I  don’t  know  about 
that.” 

Merchant  (energetically) — “He  was  a good  man,  sir.  If 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


135 


any  man  has  gone  to  heaven,  General  Jackson  has  gone  to 
heaven.” 

Broker  ( doggedly ) — “I  don’t  know  about  that.” 

Merchant — “Well,  sir,  I tell  you  that  if  Andrew  Jackson 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  heaven,  you  may  depend  upon 
it  he’s  there.” 


DIAGNOSIS 

An  epileptic  dropped  in  a fit  on  the  streets  of  Boston  not 
long  ago,  and  was  taken  to  a hospital.  Upon  removing  his 
coat  there  was  found  pinned  to  his  waistcoat  a slip  of  paper 
on  which  was  written: 

“This  is  to  inform  the  house-surgeon  that  this  is  just  a 
case  of  plain  fit:  not  appendicitis.  My  appendix  has  already 
been  removed  twice.” 


DIET 

Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  ye  diet. — William 
Gilmore  Beymer. 

There  was  a young  lady  named  Perkins, 

Who  had  a great  fondness  for  gherkins; 

She  went  to  a tea 
And  ate  twenty-three, 

Which  pickled  her  internal  workin’s. 

“Mother,”  asked  the  little  one,  on  the  occasion  of  a num- 
ber of  guests  being  present  at  dinner,  “will  the  dessert  hurt 
me,  or  is  there  enough  to  go  round?” 

The  doctor  told  him  he  needed  carbohydrates,  proteids,  and 
above  all,  something  nitrogenous.  The  doctor  mentioned  a 
long  list  of  foods  for  him  to  eat.  He  staggered  out  and  wab- 
bled into  a Penn  avenue  restaurant. 

“How  about  beefsteak?”  he  asked  the  waiter.  “Is  that  ni- 
trogenous?” 

The  waiter  didn’t  know. 

“Are  fried  potatoes  rich  in  carbohydrates  or  not?” 


136 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


The  waiter  couldn’t  say. 

“Well,  I’ll  fix  it,”  declared  the  poor  man  in  despair.  “Bring 
me  a large  plate  of  hash.” 

A Colonel,  who  used  to  assert 
That  naught  his  digestion  could  hurt, 

Was  forced  to  admit 
That  his  weak  point  was  hit 
When  they  gave  him  hot  shot  for  dessert. 

To  abstain  that  we  may  enjoy  is  the  epicurianism  of  reason. 

— Rousseau. 

They  are  as  sick  that  surfeit  with  too  much,  as  they  that 
starve  with  nothing. — Shakespeare. 

DILEMMAS 

A story  that  has  done  service  in  political  campaigns  to  il- 
lustrate supposed  dilemmas  of  the  opposition  will  likely  be  re- 
vived in  every  political  “heated  term.” 

Away  back,  when  herds  of  buffalo  grazed  along  the  foot- 
hills of  the  western  mountains,  two  hardy  prospectors  fell 
in  with  a bull  bison  that  seemed  to  have  been  separated  from 
his  kind  and  run  amuck.  One  of  the  prospectors  took  to  the 
branches  of  a tree  and  the  other  dived  into  a cave.  The  buf- 
falo bellowed  at  the  entrance  to  the  cavern  and  then  turned 
toward  the  tree.  Out  came  the  man  from  the  cave,  and  the 
buffalo  took  after  him  again.  The  man  made  another  dive 
for  the  hole.  After  this  had  been  repeated  several  times,  the 
man  in  the  tree  called  to  his  comrade,  who  was  trembling  at 
the  mouth  of  the  cavern : 

“Stay  in  the  cave,  you  idiot!” 

“You  don’t  know  nothing  about  this  hole,”  bawled  the  other. 
“There’s  a bear  in  it!” 


DINING 

A twelve  course  dinner  might  be  described  as  a gastronomic 
marathon. — John  E.  Rosser. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


1 37 


“That  was  the  spirit  of  your  uncle  that  made  that  table 
stand,  turn  over,  and  do  such  queer  stunts.” 

“I  am  not  surprised;  he  never  did  have  good  table  manners.” 

“Chakey,  Chakey,”  called  the  big  sister  as  she  stood  in  the 
doorway  and  looked  down  the  street  toward  the  group  of 
small  boys : “Chakey,  come  in  alreaty  and  eat  youseself . Maw 

she’s  on  the  table  and  Paw  he’s  half  et.” 

There  was  a young  lady  of  Cork, 

Whose  Pa  made  a fortune  in  pork; 

He  bought  for  his  daughter 
A tutor  who  taught  her 
To  balance  green  peas  on  her  fork. 

An  anecdote  about  Dr.  Randall  Davidson,  bishop  of  Win- 
chester, is  that  after  an  ecclesiastical  function,  as  the  clergy 
were  trooping  in  to  luncheon,  an  unctuous  archdeacon  observed: 
“This  is  the  time  to  put  a bridle  on  our  appetites!” 

“Yes,”  replied  the  bishop,  “this  is  the  time  to  put  a bit  in 
our  mouths!” — Christian  Life. 

There  was  a young  lady  named  Maud, 

A very  deceptive  young  fraud; 

She  never  was  able 
To  eat  at  the  table, 

But  out  in  the  pantry — O Lord! 

“Father's  trip  abroad  did  him  so  much  good,”  said  the  self- 
made  man’s  daughter.  “He  looks  better,  feels  better,  and  as 
for  appetite — honestly,  it  would  just  do  your  heart  good  to  hear 
him  eat!” 

Whistler,  the  artist,  was  one  day  invited  to  dinner  at  a 
friend’s  house  and  arrived  at  his  destination  two  hours  late. 

“How  extraordinary!”  he  exclaimed,  as  he  walked  into  the 
dining-room  where  the  company  was  seated  at  the  table;  “real- 
ly, I should  think  you  might  have  waited  a bit — why,  you’re 
just  like  a lot  of  pigs  with  your  eating!” 


138 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A macaroon, 

A cup  of  tea, 

An  afternoon, 

Is  all  that  she 
Will  eat; 

She's  in  society. 

But  let  me  take 
This  maiden  fair 
To  some  cafe, 

And,  then  and  there, 

She’ll  eat  the  whole 
Blame  bill  of  fare. 

— The  Mystic  Times. 

The  small  daughter  of  the  house  was  busily  setting  the 
tables  for  expected  company  when  her  mother  called  to  her: 

“Put  down  three  forks  at  each  place,  dear.” 

Having  made  some  observations  on  her  own  account  when 
the  expected  guests  had  dined  with  her  mother  before,  she 
inquired  thoughtfully: 

“Shall  I give  Uncle  John  three  knives?” 

For  a man  seldom  thinks  with  more  earnestness  of  any- 
thing than  he  does  of  his  dinner — Samuel  Johnson. 

DIPLOMACY 

Wife — “Please  match  this  piece  of  silk  for  me  before  you 
come  home.” 

Husband — “At  the  counter  where  the  sweet  little  blond 
works?  The  one  with  the  soulful  eyes  and ” 

Wife — “No.  You’re  too  tired  to  shop  for  me  when  your 
day's  work  is  done,  dear.  On  second  thought,  I won’t  bother 
you.” 

Scripture  tells  us  that  a soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath. 
A witty  repartee  sometimes  helps  one  immensely  also. 

When  Richard  Olney  was  secretary  of  state  he  frequently 
gave  expression  to  the  opinion  that  appointees  to  the  consular 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


139 


service  should  speak  the  language  of  the  countries  to  which 
they  were  respectively  accredited.  It  is  said  that  when  a cer- 
tain breezy  and  enterprising  western  politician  who  was  desirous 
of  serving  the  Cleveland  administration  in  the  capacity  of  con- 
sul of  the  Chinese  ports  presented  his  papers  to  Mr.  Olney,  the 
secretary  remarked: 

“Are  you  aware,  Mr.  Blank,  that  I never  recommend  to 
the  President  the  appointment  of  a consul  unless  he  speaks  the 
language  of  the  country  to  which  he  desires  to  go?  Now,  I 
suppose  you  do  not  speak  Chinese?” 

Whereupon  the  westerner  grinned  broadly.  “If,  Mr.  Sec- 
retary,” said  he,  “you  will  ask  me  a question  in  Chinese,  I shall 
be  happy  to  answer  it.”  He  got  the  appointment. 


“Miss  de  Simpson,”  said  the  young  secretary  of  legation,  “I 
have  opened  negotiations  with  your  father  upon  the  subject  of — 
er — coming  to  see  you  oftener,  with  a view  ultimately  to  form 
ing  an  alliance,  and  he  has  responded  favorably.  May  I ask 
if  you  will  ratify  the  arrangement,  as  a modus  vivendi?” 

“Mr.  von  Harris,”  answered  the  daughter  of  the  eminent 
diplomat,  “don’t  you  think  it  would  have  been  a more  grace- 
ful recognition  of  my  administrative  entity  if  you  had  asked 
me  first?” 


I call’d  the  devil  and  he  came, 

And  with  wonder  his  form  did  I closely  scan ; 
He  is  not  ugly,  and  is  not  lame, 

But  really  a handsome  and  charming  man. 

A man  in  the  prime  of  life  is  the  devil, 

Obliging,  a man  of  the  world,  and  civil ; 

A diplomatist  too,  well  skill’d  in  debate, 

He  talks  quite  glibly  of  church  and  state. 

— Heine. 


DISCIPLINE 


See  Military  discipline;  Parents. 


140 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


DISCOUNTS 

A train  in  Arizona  was  boarded  by  robbers,  who  went; 
through  the  pockets  of  the  luckless  passengers.  One  of  them 
happened  to  be  a traveling  salesman  from  New  York,  who, 
when  his  turn  came,  fished  out  $200,  but  rapidly  took  $4  from 
the  pile  and  placed  it  in  his  vest  pocket. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  that?”  asked  the  robber,  as  he  toyed 
with  his  revolver.  Hurriedly  came  the  answer:  “Mine  frent, 
you  surely  vould  not  refuse  me  two  per  zent.  discount  on  a 
strictly  cash  transaction  like  dis?” 


DISCRETION 

When  you  can,  use  discretion;  when  you  can’t,  use  a club. 
DISPOSITION 

One  eastern  railroad  has  a regular  form  for  reporting  ac- 
cidents to  animals  on  its  right  of  way.  Recently  a track  fore- 
man had  the  killing  of  a cow  to  report.  In  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion, “Disposition  of  carcass?”  he  wrote:  “Kind  and  gentle.” 

There  was  one  man  who  had  a reputation  for  being  even 
tempered.  He  was  always  cross. 

DISTANCES 

A regiment  of  regulars  was  making  a long,  dusty  march 
across  the  rolling  prairie  land  of  Montana  last  summer.  It  was 
a hot,  blistering  day  and  the  men,  longing  for  water  and  rest, 
were  impatient  to  reach  the  next  town. 

A rancher  rode  past. 

“Say,  friend,”  called  out  one  of  the  men,  “how  far  is  it  to 
the  next  town?” 

“Oh,  a matter  of  two  miles  or  so,  I reckon,”  called  back 
the  rancher.  Another  long  hour  dragged  by,  and  another 
rancher  was  encountered. 

“How  far  to  the  next  town?”  the  men  asked  him  eagerly. 

“Oh,  a good  two  miles.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


141 

A weary  half-hour  longer  of  marching,  and  then  a third 
rancher. 

“Hey,  how  far’s  the  next  town?” 

“Not  far,”  was  the  encouraging  answer.  “Only  about  two 
miles.” 

“Well,”  sighed  an  optimistic  sergeant,  “thank  God,  we’re 
holdin’  our  own,  anyhow !” 


DIVORCE 

“When  a woman  marries  and  then  divorces  her  husband  in- 
side of  a week  what  would  you  call  it?” 

- “Taking  his  name  in  vain.” — Princeton  Tiger. 


DOGS 

Lady  (to  tramp  who  had  been  commissioned  to  find  her  lost 
poodle) — “The  poor  little  darling,  where  did  you  find  him?” 
Tramp — “Oh,  a man  ’ad  ’im,  miss,  tied  to  a pole,  and  was 
cleaning  the  windows  wiv  ’im !” 


A family  moved  from  the  city  to  a suburban  locality  and  were 
told  that  they  should  get  a watchdog  to  guard  the  premises  at 
night.  So  they  bought  the  largest  dog  that  was  for  sale  in  the 
kennels  of  a neighboring  dog  fancier,  who  was  a German. 
Shortly  afterward  the  house  was  entered  by  burglars  who  made 
a good  haul,  while  the  big  dog  slept.  The  man  went  to  the  dog 
fancier  and  told  him  about  it. 

“Veil,  vat  you  need  now,”  said  the  dog  merchant,  “is  a 
leedle  dog  to  vake  up  the  big  dog.” 


“Dogs  is  mighty  useful  beasts 
They  might  seem  bad  at  first 
They  might  seem  worser  right  along 
But  when  they’re  dead 
They’re  wurst.” 


— Ellis  Parker  Butler. 


142 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“My  dog  took  first  prize  at  the  cat  show.” 

“How  was  that?” 

“He  took  the  cat.” — Judge. 

Fair  Visitor — “Why  are  you  giving  Fido’s  teeth  such  a 
thorough  brushing?” 

Fond  Mistress — “Oh!  The  poor  darling’s  just  bitten  some 
horrid  person,  and,  really,  you  know,  one  can’t  be  too  careful.” 
—Life. 

“Do  you  know  that  that  bulldog  of  yours  killed  my  wife’s 
little  harmless,  affectionate  poodle?” 

“Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?” 

“Would  you  be  offended  if  I was  to  present  him  with  a nice 
brass  collar?” 

Fleshy  Miss  Muffet 
Sat  down  on  Tuffet, 

A very  good  dog  in  his  way; 

When  she  saw  what  she’d  done, 

She  started  to  run — 

And  Tuffet  was  buried  next  day. 

—L.  T.  H. 

William  J.  Stevens,  for  several  years  local  station  agent  at 
Swansea,  R.  I.,  was  peacefully  promenading  his  platform  one 
morning  when  a rash  dog  ventured  to  snap  at  one  of  William’s 
plump  legs.  Stevens  promptly  kicked  the  animal  halfway  across 
the  tracks,  and  was  immediately  confronted  by  the  owner,  who 
demanded  an  explanation  in  language  more  forcible  than  cour- 
teous. 

“Why,”  said  Stevens  when  the  other  paused  for  breath, 
“your  dog’s  mad.” 

“Mad!  Mad!  You  double-dyed  blankety-blank  fool,  he  ain’t 
mad !” 

“Oh,  ain’t  he?”  cut  in  Stevens.  “Gosh!  I should  be  if  any 
one  kicked  me  like  that!” 

One  would  have  it  that  a collie  is  the  most  sagacious  of 
dogs,  while  the  other  stood  up  for  the  setter. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


143 


“I  once  owned  a setter,”  declared  the  latter,  “which  was  very 
intelligent.  I had  him  on  the  street  one  day,  and  he  acted  so 
queerly  about  a certain  man  we  met  that  I asked  the  man  his 
name,  and ” 

“Oh,  that’s  an  old  story !”  the  collie’s  advocate  broke  in 
sneeringly.  “The  man’s  name  was  Partridge,  of  course,  and 
because  of  that  the  dog  came  to  a set.  Ho,  ho ! Come  again !” 

“You’re  mistaken,”  rejoined  the  other  suavely.  “The  dog 
didn’t  come  quite  to  a set,  though  almost.  As  a matter  of  fact, 
the  man’s  name  was  Quayle,  and  the  dog  hesitated  on  account 
of  the  spelling!” — P.  R.  Benson. 

The  more  one  sees  of  men  the  more  one  likes  dogs. 

See  also  Dachshunds. 


DOMESTIC  FINANCE 

“Talk  about  Napoleon!  That  fellow  Wombat  is  something 
of  a strategist  himself.” 

“As  to  how?” 

“Got  his  salary  raised  six  months  ago,  and  his  wife  hasn’t 
found  it  out  yet.” — Washington  Herald. 

A Lakewood  woman  was  recently  reading  to  her  little  boy  the 
story  of  a young  lad  whose  father  was  taken  ill  and  died,  after 
which  he  set  himself  diligently  to  work  to  support  himself  and 
his  mother.  When  she  had  finished  her  story  she  said: 

“Dear  Billy,  if  your  papa  were  to  die,  would  you  work  to 
support  your  dear  mamma?” 

“Naw!”  said  Billy  unexpectedly. 

“But  why  not?” 

“Ain’t  we  got  a good  house  to  live  in?” 

“Yes,  dearie,  but  we  can’t  eat  the  house,  you  know.” 

“Ain’t  there  a lot  o’  stuff  in  the  pantry?” 

“Yes,  but  that  won’t  last  forever.” 

“It’ll  last  till  you  git  another  husband,  won’t  it?  You’re  a 
pretty  good  looker,  ma!” 

Mamma  gave  up  right  there. 


144 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“I  am  sending  you  a thousand  kisses,”  he  wrote  to  his  fair 
young  wife  who  was  spending  her  first  month  away  from  him. 
Two  days  later  he  received  the  following  telegram : “Kisses  re- 
ceived. Landlord  refuses  to  accept  any  of  them  on  account.” 
Then  he  woke  ud  and  forwarded  a check. 

See  also  Trouble. 

DOMESTIC  RELATIONS 

There  was  a young  man  of  Dunbar, 

Who  playfully  poisoned  his  Ma; 

When  he’d  finished  his  work, 

He  remarked  with  a smirk, 

“This  will  cause  quite  a family  jar.” 

See  also  Families;  Marriage. 

DRAMA 

The  average  modern  play  calls  in  the  first  act  for  all  our 
faith,  in  the  second  for  all  our  hope,  and  in  the  last  for  all  our 
charity. — Eugene  Walter. 

The  young  man  in  the  third  row  of  seats  looked  bored.  He 
wasn’t  having  a good  time.  He  cared  nothing  for  the  Shake- 
spearean drama. 

“What’s  the  greatest  play  you  ever  saw?”  the  young  woman 
asked,  observing  his  abstraction. 

Instantly  he  brightened. 

“Tinker  touching  a man  out  between  second  and  third  and 
getting  the  ball  over  to  Chance  in  time  to  nab  the  runner  to 
first !”  he  said. 

Larry — “I  like  Professor  Whatishisname  in  Shakespeare.  He 
brings  things  home  to  you  that  you  never  saw  before.” 

Harry — “Huh!  I’ve  got  a laundryman  as  good  as  that.” 

I think  I love  and  reverence  all  arts  equally,  only  putting  my 
own  just  above  the  others.  . . . To  me  it  seems  as  if  when 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


145 


God  conceived  the  world,  that  was  Poetry ; He  formed  it,  and 
that  was  Sculpture;  He  colored  it,  and  that  was  Painting;  He 
peopled  it  with  living  beings,  and  that  was  the  grand,  divine, 
eternal  Drama. — Charlotte  Cushman. 


Two  women  were  leaving  the  theater  after  a performance  of 
“The  Doll’s  House.” 

“Oh,  don’t  you  love  Ibsen?”  asked  one,  ecstatically.  “Doesn’t 
he  just  take  all  the  hope  out  of  life?” 


DRAMATIC  CRITICISM 

Theodore  Dreiser,  the  novelist,  was  talking  about  criticism. 
“I  like  pointed  criticism,”  he  said,  “criticism  such  as  I heard 
in  the  lobby  of  a theater  the  other  night  at  the  end  of  the  play.” 
“The  critic  was  an  old  gentleman.  His  criticism,  which  was 
for  his  wife’s  ears  alone,  consisted  of  these  words : 

“ ‘Well,  you  would  come  !’  ” 


Nat  Goodwin,  the  American  comedian,  when  at  the  Shaftes- 
bury Theatre,  London,  told  of  an  experience  he  once  had  with 
a juvenile  deadhead  in  a town  in  America.  Standing  outside 
the  theater  a little  time  before  the  performance  was  due  to  begin 
he  observed  a small  boy  with  an  anxious,  forlorn  look  on  his 
face  and  a weedy-looking  pup  in  his  arms. 

Goodwin  inquired  what  was  the  matter,  and  was  told  that 
the  boy  wished  to  sell  the  dog  so  as  to  raise  the  price  of  a seat 
in  the  gallery.  The  actor  suspected  at  once  a dodge  to  secure  a 
pass  on  the  “sympathy  racket,”  but  allowing  himself  to  be  taken 
in  he  gave  the  boy  a pass.  The  dog  was  deposited  in  a safe 
place  and  the  boy  was  able  to  watch  Goodwin  as  the  Gilded  Fool 
from  a good  seat  in  the  gallery.  Next  day  Goodwin  saw  the  boy 
again  near  the  theater,  so  he  asked : 

“Well,  sonny,  how  did  you  like  the  show?” 

“I’m  glad  I didn’t  sell  my  dog,”  was  the  reply. 


146 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


DRAMATISTS 

“I  hear  Scribbler  finally  got  one  of  his  plays  on  the  boards.” 

“Yes,  the  property  man  tore  up  his  manuscript  and  used  it  in 
the  snow  storm  scene.” 

“So  you  think  the  author  of  this  play  will  live,  do  you?”  re- 
marked the  tourist. 

“Yes,”  replied  the  manager  of  the  Frozen  Dog  Opera  House. 
“He’s  got  a five-mile  start  and  I don’t  think  the  boys  kin  ketch 
him.” — Life. 

We  all  know  the  troubles  of  a dramatist  are  many  and  varied. 

Here’s  an  advertisement  taken  from  a morning  paper  that 
shows  to  what  a pass  a genius  may  come  in  a great  city : 

‘Wanted — A collaborator,  by  a young  playwright.  The  play 
is  already  written;  collaborator  to  furnish  board  and  bed  until 
play  is  produced.” 


DRESSMAKERS 

Wife — “Wretch!  Show  me  that  letter.” 

Husband — “What  letter?” 

Wife — “That  one  in  your  hand.  It’s  from  a woman,  I can 
see  by  the  writing,  and  you  turned  pale  when  you  saw  it.” 

Husband — “Yes.  Here  it  is.  It’s  your  dressmaker’s  bill.” 

DRINKING 

He  who  goes  to  bed,  and  goes  to  bed  sober, 

Falls  as  the  leaves  do,  and  dies  in  October; 

But  he  who  goes  to  bed,  and  does  so  mellow, 

Lives  as  he  ought  to,  and  dies  a good  fellow. 

— Parody  on  Fletcher. 

I drink  when  I have  occasion,  and  sometimes  when  I have 
no  occasion. — Cervantes. 

I have  very  poor  and  unhappy  brains  for  drinking.  I could 
wish  courtesy  would  invent  some  other  custom  of  entertainment. 
— Shakespeare. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


147 


The  Frenchman  loves  his  native  wine; 

The  German  loves  his  beer; 

The  Englishman  loves  his  ’alf  and  ’alf, 
Because  it  brings  good  cheer; 

The  Irishman  loves  his  “whiskey  straight,” 
Because  it  gives  him  dizziness ; 

The  American  has  no  choice  at  all, 

So  he  drinks  the  whole  blamed  business. 


A young  Englishman  came  to  Washington  and  devoted  his 
days  and  nights  to  an  earnest  endeavor  to  drink  all  the  Scotch 
whiskey  there  was.  He  couldn’t  do  it,  and  presently  went  to 
a doctor,  complaining  of  a disordered  stomach. 

“Quit  drinking!”  ordered  the  doctor. 

“But,  my  dear  sir,  I cawn’t.  I get  so  thirsty.” 

“Well,”  said  the  doctor,  “whenever  you  are  thirsty  eat  an 
apple  instead  of  taking  a drink.” 

The  Englishman  paid  his  fee  and  left.  He  met  a friend 
to  whom  he  told  his  experience. 

“Bally  rot!”  he  protested.  “Fawncy  eating  forty  apples  a 
day !” 


If  you  are  invited  to  drink  at  any  man’s  house  more  than 
you  think  is  wholesome,  you  may  say  “you  wish  you  could,  but 
so  little  makes  you  both  drunk  and  sick;  that  you  should  only 
be  bad  company  by  doing  so.” — Lord  Chesterfield. 


There  is  many  a cup  ’twixt  the  lip  and  the  slip. — Judge. 


One  swallow  doesn’t  make  a summer,  but  it  breaks  a New 
Year’s  resolution. — Life. 


Doctor  (feeling  Sandy’s  pulse  in  bed) — “What  do  you  drink.” 
Sandy  (with  brightening  face) — “Oh,  I’m  nae  particular, 
doctor ! Anything  you’ve  got  with  ye.” 


148 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Here’s  to  the  girls  of  the  American  shore, 

I love  but  one,  I love  no  more, 

Since  she’s  not  here  to  drink  her  part, 

I’ll  drink  her  share  with  all  my  heart. 

A well-known  Scottish  architect  was  traveling  in  Palestine 
recently,  when  news  reached  him  of  an  addition  to  his  family 
circle.  The  happy  father  immediately  provided  himself  with 
some  water  from  the  Jordan  to  carry  home  for  the  christen- 
ing of  the  infant,  and  returned  to  Scotland. 

On  the  Sunday  appointed  for  the  ceremony  he  duly  presented 
himself  at  the  church,  and  sought  out  the  beadle  in  order 
to  hand  over  the  precious  water  to  his  care.  He  pulled  the 
flask  from  his  pocket,  but  the  beadle  held  up  a warning  hand, 
and  came  nearer  to  whisper: 

‘‘No  the  noo,  sir;  no  the  noo!  Maybe  after  the  kirk’s  oot!” 


When  President  Eliot  of  Harvard  was  in  active  service  as 
head  of  the  university,  reports  came  to  him  that  one  of  his 
young  charges  was  in  the  habit  of  absorbing  more  liquor  than 
was  good  for  him,  and  President  Eliot  determined  to  do  his 
duty  and  look  into  the  matter. 

Meeting  the  young  man  under  suspicion  in  the  yard  short- 
ly after  breakfast  one  day  the  president  marched  up  to  him 
and  demanded,  “Young  man,  do  you  drink?” 

“Why,  why,  why,”  stammered  the  young  man,  “why,  Presi- 
dent Eliot,  not  so  early  in  the  morning,  thank  you.” 

Wife  (on  auto  tour) — “That  fellow  back  there  said  there  is 
a road-house  a few  miles  down  the  road.  Shall  we  stop  there?” 

Husband — “Did  he  whisper  it  or  say  it  out  loud?” 

A priest  went  to  a barber  shop  conducted  by  one  of  his 
Irish  parishioners  to  get  a shave.  He  observed  the  barber  was 
suffering  from  a recent  celebration,  but  decided  to  take  a 
chance.  In  a few  moments  the  barber’s  razor  had  nicked  the 
father’s  cheek.  “There,  Pat,  you  have  cut  me,”  said  the  priest 
as  he  raised  his  hand  and  caressed  the  wound.  “Yis,  y’r 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


149 


riv’rance,”  answered  the  barber.  “That  shows  you,”  con- 
tinued the  priest,  in  a tone  of  censure,  “what  the  use  of  liquor 
will  do.”  “Yis,  y’r  riv’rance,”  replied  the  barber,  humbly,  “it 
makes  the  skin  tender.” 

Ex-congressman  Asher  G.  Caruth,  of  Kentucky,  tells  this 
story  of  an  experience  he  once  had  on  a visit  to  a little  Ohio 
town. 

“I  went  up  there  on  legal  business,”  he  says,  “and,  knowing 
that  I should  have  to  stay  all  night,  I proceeded  directly  to 
the  only  hotel.  The  landlord  stood  behind  the  desk  and  re- 
garded me  with  a kindly  air  as  I registered.  It  seems  that 
he  was  a little  hard  of  hearing,  a fact  of  which  I was  not 
aware.  As  I jabbed  the  pen  back  into  the  dish  of  bird  shot,  I 
said : 

“‘Can  you  direct  me  to  the  bank?* 

“He  looked  at  me  blankly  for  a second,  then  swinging  the 
register  around,  he  glanced  down  swiftly,  caught  the  ‘Louis- 
ville’ after  my  name,  and  an  expression  of  complete  under- 
standing lighting  up  his  countenance,  he  said : 

“ ‘Certainly,  sir.  You  will  find  the  bar  right  through  that 
door  at  the  left/” 

See  also  Drunkards;  Good  fellowship;  Temperance;  Wine. 
DROUGHTS 

Governor  Glasscock  of  West  Virginia,  while  traveling 
through  Arizona,  noticed  the  dry,  dusty  appearance  of  the 
country. 

“Doesn’t  it  ever  rain  around  here?”  he  asked  one  of  the 
natives. 

“Rain?”  The  native  spat.  “Rain?  Why  say  pardner, 
there’s  bullfrogs  in  this  yere  town  over  five  years  old  that 
hain’t  learned  to  swim  yet!” 

DRUNKARDS 

Sing  a song  of  sick  gents, 

Pockets  full  of  rye, 

Four  and  twenty  highballs, 

We  wish  that  we  might  die. 


150 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Two  booze-fiends  were  ambling  homeward  at  an  early  hour, 
after  being  out  nearly  all  night. 

“Don’t  your  wife  miss  you  on  these  occasions?”  asked  one. 

“Not  often,”  replied  the  other;  “she  throws  pretty  straight.” 

“Where’s  old  Four-Fingered  Pete?”  asked  Alkali  Ike.  “I 
ain’t  seen  him  around  here  since  I got  back.” 

“Pete?”  said  the  bartender.  “Oh,  he  went  up  to  Hyena 
Tongue  and  got  jagged.  Went  up  to  a hotel  winder,  stuck  his 
head  in  and  hollered  ‘Fire !’  and  everybody  did.” 

The  Irish  talent  for  repartee  has  an  amusing  illustration  in 
Lord  Rossmore’s  recent  book  “Things  I Can  Tell.”  While 
acting  as  magistrate  at  an  Irish  village,  Lord  Rossmore  said 
to  an  old  offender  brought  before  him:  “You  here  again?” 
“Yes,  your  honor.”  “What’s  brought  you  here?”  “Two  police- 
men, your  honor.”  “Come,  come,  I know  that — drunk  again,  I 
suppose?”  “Yes,  your  honor,  both  of  them.” 

The  colonel  came  down  to  breakfast  New  Year’s  morning 
with  a bandaged  hand. 

“Why,  colonel,  what’s  the  matter?”  they  asked. 

“Confound  it  all !”  the  colonel  answered,  “we  had  a little 
party  last  night,  and  one  of  the  younger  men  got  intoxicated 
and  stepped  on  my  hand.” 

Magistrate — “And  what  was  the  prisoner  doing?” 

Constable — “E  were  ’avin’  a very  ’eated  argument  with  a 
cab  driver,  yer  worship.” 

Magistrate — “But  that  doesn’t  prove  he  was  drunk.” 

Constable — “Ah,  but  there  worn’t  no  cab  driver  there,  yer 
worship.” 

A Scotch  minister  and  his  servant,  who  were  coming  home 
from  a wedding,  began  to  consider  the  state  into  which  their 
potations  at  the  wedding  feast  had  left  them. 

“Sandy,”  said  the  minister,  “just  stop  a minute  here  till  I go 
ahead.  Maybe  I don’t  walk  very  steady  and  the  good  wife 
might  remark  something  not  just  right.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


151 

He  walked  ahead  of  the  servant  for  a short  distance  and 
then  asked : 

“How  is  it?  Am  I walking  straight?” 

“Oh,  ay,”  answered  Sandy  thickly,  “ye’re  a’  recht — but  who’s 
that  who’s  with  ye.” 

A man  in  a very  deep  state  of  intoxication  was  shouting 
and  kicking  most  vigorously  at  a lamp  post,  when  the  noise 
attracted  a near-by  policeman. 

“What’s  the  matter?”  he  asked  the  energetic  one. 

“Oh,  never  mind,  mishter.  Thash  all  right,”  was  the  re- 
ply; “I  know  she’sh  home  all  right — I shee  a light  upshtairs.” 

A pompous  little  man  with  gold-rimmed  spectacles  and  a 
thoughtful  brow  boarded  a New  York  elevated  train  and  took 
the  only  unoccupied  seat.  The  man  next  him  had  evidently 
been  drinking.  For  a while  the  little  man  contented  himself 
with  merely  sniffing  contemptuously  at  his  neighbor,  but  final- 
ly he  summoned  the  guard. 

“Conductor,”  he  demanded  indignantly,  “do  you  permit 
drunken  people  to  ride  upon  this  train?” 

“No,  sir,”  replied  the  guard  in  a confidential  whisper.  “But 
don’t  say  a word  and  stay  where  you  are,  sir.  If  ye  hadn’t  told 
me  I’d  never  have  noticed  ye.” 

A noisy  bunch  tacked  out  of  their  club  late  one  night,  and 
up  the  street.  They  stopped  in  front  of  an  imposing  residence. 
After  considerable  discussion  one  of  them  advanced  and  pounded 
on  the  door.  A woman  stuck  her  head  out  of  a second-story 
window  and  demanded,  none  too  sweetly:  “What  do  you  want?” 

“Ish  thish  the  residence  of  Mr.  Smith?”  inquired  the  man 
on  the  steps,  with  an  elaborate  bow. 

“It  is.  What  do  you  want?” 

“Ish  it  possible  I have  the  honor  of  speakin’  to  Misshus 
Smith?” 

“Yes.  What  do  you  want?” 

“Dear  Misshus  Smith ! Good  Misshus  Smith ! Will  you — 
hie — come  down  an’  pick  out  Mr.  Smith?  The  resh  of  us 
want  to  go  home.” 


152 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


That  clever  and  brilliant  genius,  McDougall,  who  represented 
California  in  the  United  States  Senate,  was  like  many  others 
of  his  class  somewhat  addicted  to  fiery  stimulants,  and  un- 
able to  battle  long  with  them  without  showing  the  effect  of 
the  struggle.  Even  in  his  most  exhausted  condition  he  was, 
however,  brilliant  at  repartee;  but  one  night,  at  a supper  of 
journalists  given  to  the  late  George  D.  Prentice,  a genius  of 
the  same  mold  and  the  same  unfortunate  habit,  he  found  a 
foeman  worthy  of  his  steel  in  General  John  Cochrane.  Mc- 
Dougall had  taken  offense  at  some  anti-slavery  sentiments 
which  had  been  uttered — it  was  in  war  times — and  late  in  the 
evening  got  on  his  legs  for  the  tenth  time  to  make  a reply. 
The  spirit  did  not  move  him  to  utterance,  however;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  quite  deprived  him  of  the  power  of  speech;  and  after  an 
ineffectual  attempt  at  speech  he  suddenly  concluded : 

‘‘Those  are  my  sentiments,  sir,  and  my  name’s  McDougall.,, 

“I  beg  the  gentleman’s  pardon,”  said  General  Cochrane, 
springing  to  his  feet;  “but  what  was  that  last  remark?” 

McDougall  pronounced  it  again;  “my  name’s  McDougall.” 

“There  must  be  some  error,”  said  Cochrane,  gravely.  “I 
have  known  Mr.  McDougall  many  years,  and  there  never  was 
a time  when  as  late  as  twelve  o’clock  at  night  he  knew  what 
his  name  was.” 

On  a pleasant  Sunday  afternoon  an  old  German  and  his 
youngest  son  were  seated  in  the  village  inn.  The  father  had 
partaken  liberally  of  the  home-brewed  beer,  and  was  warning 
his  son  against  the  evils  of  intemperance.  “Never  drink  too 
much,  my  son.  A gentleman  stops  when  he  has  enough.  To 
be  drunk  is  a disgrace.” 

“Yes,  Father,  but  how  can  I tell  when  I have  enough  or  am 
drunk?” 

The  old  man  pointed  with  his  finger.  “Do  you  see  those 
two  men  sitting  in  the  corner?  If  you  see  four  men  there,  you 
would  be  drunk.” 

The  boy  looked  long  and  earnestly.  “Yes,  Father,  but — but — 
there  is  only  one  man  in  that  corner.” — W.  Karl  Hilbrich „ 

William  R.  Hearst,  who  never  touches  liquor,  had  several 
men  in  important  positions  on  his  newspapers  who  were  not 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


153 


strangers  to  intoxicants.  Mr.  Hearst  has  a habit  of  appearing 
at  his  office  at  unexpected  times  and  summoning  his  chiefs  of 
departments  for  instructions.  One  afternoon  he  sent  for  Mr. 
Blank. 

“He  hasn’t  come  down  yet,  sir,”  reported  the  office  boy. 

“Please  tell  Mr.  Dash  I want  to  see  him.” 

“He  hasn’t  come  down  yet  either.” 

“Well,  find  Mr.  Star  or  Mr.  Sun  or  Mr.  Moon — anybody;  I 
want  to  see  one  of  them  at  once.” 

“Ain’t  none  of  ’em  here  yet,  sir.  You  see  there  was  a celebra- 
tion last  night  and ” 

Mr.  Hearst  sank  back  in  his  chair  and  remarked  in  his  quiet 
way: 

“For  a man  who  don’t  drink  I think  I suffer  more  from  the 
effects  of  it  than  anybody  in  the  world.” 

“What  is  a drunken  man  like,  Fool?” 

“Like  a drowned  man,  a fool  and  a madman : one  draught 
above  heat  makes  him  a fool;  the  second  mads  him;  and  a 
third  drowns  him.” — Shakespeare . 

DYSPEPSIA 

“Ah,”  she  sighed  “for  many  years  I’ve  suffered  from  dys- 
pepsia.” 

“And  don’t  you  take  anything  for  it?”  her  friend  asked. 
“You  look  healthy  enough.” 

“Oh,”  she  replied,  “I  haven’t  indigestion : my  husband  has.” 
ECHOES 

An  American  and  a Scotsman  were  walking  one  day  near  the 
foot  of  one  of  the  Scotch  mountains.  The  Scotsman,  wishing  to 
impress  the  visitor,  produced  a famous  echo  to  be  heard  in  that 
place.  When  the  echo  returned  clearly  after  nearly  four  min- 
utes, the  proud  Scotsman,  turning  to  the  Yankee  exclaimed : 

“There,  mon,  ye  canna  show  anything  like  that  in  your  coun- 
try.” 

“Oh,  I don’t  know,”  said  the  American,  “I  guess  we  can 
better  that.  Why  in  my  camp  in  the  Rockies,  when  I go  to  bed 


154 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


I just  lean  out  of  my  window  and  call  out,  ‘Time  to  get  up: 
wake  up  !’  and  eight  hours  afterward  the  echo  comes  back  and 
wakes  me.” 


ECONOMY 

An  economist  is  usually  a man  who  can  save  money  by  cut- 
ting down  some  other  person’s  expenses. 

Economy  is  going  without  something  you  do  want  in  case  you 
should,  some  day,  want  ^something  which  you  probably  won’t 
want. — Anthony  Hope. 

Economy  is  a way  of  spending  money  without  getting  any 
fun  out  of  it. 

Ther’s  lots  o’  difference  between  thrift  an’  tryin’  t’  revive  a 
last  year’s  straw  hat. — Ahe  Martin . 

Economy  is  a great  revenue. — Cicero. 

See  also  Domestic  finance;  Saving;  Thrift. 

EDITORS 


Recipe  for  an  editor: 

Take  a personal  hatred  of  authors, 

Mix  this  with  a fiendish  delight 
In  refusing  all  efforts  of  genius 
And  maiming  all  poets  on  sight. 

—Life. 

The  city  editor  of  a great  New  York  daily  was  known  in 
the  newspaper  world  as  a martinet  and  severe  disciplinarian. 
Some  of  his  caustic  and  biting  criticisms  are  classics.  Once, 
however,  the  tables  were  turned  upon  him  in  a way  that  left  him 
speechless  for  days. 

A reporter  on  the  paper  wrote  an  article  that  the  city  editor 
did  not  approve  of.  The  morning  of  publication  this  reporter 
drifted  into  the  office  and  encountered  his  chief,  who  was  in  a 
white  heat  of  anger.  Carefully  suppressing  the  explosion,  how- 
ever, the  boss  started  in  with  ominous  and  icy  words : 

“Mr.  Blank,  I am  not  going  to  criticize  you  for  what  you 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


155 


have  written.  On  the  other  hand,  I am  profoundly  sorry  for 
you.  I have  watched  your  work  recently,  and  it  is  my  opinion, 
reached  after  calm  and  dispassionate  observation,  that  you  are 
mentally  unbalanced.  You  are  insane.  Your  mind  is  a wreck. 
Your  friends  should  take  you  in  hand.  The  very  kindest  sug- 
gestion I can  make  is  that  you  visit  an  alienist  and  place  your- 
self under  treatment.  So  far  you  have  shown  no  sign  of  vio- 
lence, but  what  the  future  holds  for  you  no  one  can  tell.  I say 
this  in  all  kindness  and  frankness.  You  are  discharged/' 

The  reporter  walked  out  of  the  office  and  wandered  up  to 
Bellevue  Hospital.  He  visited  the  insane  pavilion,  and  told  the 
resident  surgeon  that  there  was  a suspicion  that  he  was  not  all 
right  mentally  and  asked  to  be  examined.  The  doctor  put  him 
through  the  regular  routine  and  then  said, 

“Right  as  a top." 

“Sure?"  asked  the  reporter.  “Will  you  give  me  a certificate 
to  that  effect?"  The  doctor  said  he  would  and  did.  Clutching 
the  certificate  tightly  in  his  hand  the  reporter  entered  the  office 
an  hour  later,  walked  up  to  the  city  editor,  handed  it  to  him 
silently,  and  then  blurted  out, 

“Now  you  go  get  one." 


EDUCATION 

Along  in  the  sixties  Pat  Casey  pushed  a wheelbarrow  across 
the  plains  from  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  to  Georgetown,  Colo.,  and 
shortly  after  that  he  “struck  it  rich" ; in  fact,  he  was  credited 
with  having  more  wealth  than  any  one  else  in  Colorado.  A man 
of  great  shrewdness  and  ability,  he  was  exceedingly  sensitive 
over  his  inability  to  read  or  write.  One  day  an  old-timer  met 
him  with : 

“How  are  you  getting  along,  Pat?" 

“Go  'way  from  me  now,"  said  Pat  genially,  “me  head’s  bustin' 
wid  business.  It  takes  two  lid-pincils  a day  to  do  me  wurruk." 

A catalog  of  farming  implements  sent  out  by  the  manufac- 
turer finally  found  its  way  to  a distant  mountain  village  where  it 
was  evidently  welcomed  with  interest.  The  firm  received  a 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


156 

carefully  written,  if  somewhat  clumsily  expressed  letter  from  a 
southern  “cracker”  asking  further  particulars  about  one  of  the 
listed  articles. 

To  this,  in  the  usual  course  of  business,  was  sent  a type-writ- 
ten  answer.  Almost  by  return  mail  came  a reply: 

“You  fellows  need  not  think  you  are  so  all-fired  smart,  and 
you  need  not  print  your  letters  to  me.  I can  read  writing.” 

EFFICIENCY 

An  American  motorist  went  to  Germany  in  his  car  to  the 
army  maneuvers.  He  was  especially  impressed  with  the  German 
motor  ambulances.  As  the  tourist  watched  the  maneuvers  from  a 
seat  under  a tree,  the  axle  of  one  of  the  motor  ambulances 
broke.  Instantly  the  man  leaped  out,  ran  into  the  village,  re- 
turned in  a jiffy  with  a new  axle,  fixed  it  in  place  with  wonder- 
ful skill,  and  teuffed-teuffed  off  again  almost  as  good  as  new. 

“There’s  efficiency  for  you,”  said  the  American  admirably. 
“There’s  German  efficiency  for  you.  No  matter  what  breaks, 
there’s  always  a stock  at  hand  from  which  to  supply  the  needed 
part.” 

And  praising  the  remarkable  instance  of  German  efficiency 
he  had  just  witnessed,  the  tourist  returned  to  the  village  and 
ordered  up  his  car.  But  he  couldn’t  use  it.  The  axle  was  mis- 
sing. 

A curious  little  man  sat  next  an  elderly,  prosperous  looking 
man  in  a smoking  car. 

“How  many  people  work  in  your  office?”  he  asked. 

“Oh,”  responded  the  elderly  man,  getting  up  and  throwing 
away  his  cigar,  “I  should  say,  at  a rough  guess,  about  two-thirds 
of  them.” 


EGOTISM 

In  the  Chicago  schools  a boy  refused  to  sew,  thinking  it  below 
the  dignity  of  a man  of  ten  years. 

“Why,”  said  the  teacher,  “George  Washington  did  his  own 
sewing  in  the  wars,  and  do  you  think  you  are  better  than  George 
Washington?” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


157 


“1  don’t  know,”  replied  the  boy  seriously.  “Only  time  can 
tell  that.” 

John  D.  Rockefeller  tells  this  story  on  himself: 

“Golfing  one  bright  winter  day  I had  for  caddie  a boy  who 
didn’t  know  me. 

“An  unfortunate  stroke  landed  me  in  clump  of  high  grass. 

“ ‘My,  my,’  I said,  ‘what  am  I to  do  now  ?” 

“‘See  that  there  tree?’  said  the  boy,  pointing  to  a tall  tree  a 
mile  away.  ‘Well,  drive  straight  for  that.’ 

“I  lofted  vigorously,  and,  fortunately,  my  ball  soared  up  into 
the  air;  it  landed,  and  it  rolled  right  on  to  the  putting  green. 

“‘How’s  that,  my  boy?’  I cried. 

“The  caddie  stared  at  me  with  envious  eyes. 

“ ‘Gee,  boss,’  he  said,  ‘if  I had  your  strength  and  you  had 
my  brains  what  a pair  we’d  make !’  ” 


The  late  Marshall  Field  had  a very  small  office-boy  who  came 
to  the  great  merchant  one  day  with  a request  for  an  increase  in 
wages. 

“Huh !”  said  Mr.  Field,  looking  at  him  as  if  through  a 
magnifying-glass.  “Want  a raise,  do  you?  How  much  are  you 
getting?” 

“Three  dollars  a week,”  chirped  the  little  chap. 

“Three  dollars  a week!”  exclaimed  his  employer.  “Why, 
when  I was  your  age  I only  got  two  dollars.” 

“Oh,  well,  that’s  different,”  piped  the  youngster.  “I  guess 
you  weren’t  worth  any  more.” 

Here’s  to  the  man  who  is  wisest  and  best, 

Here’s  to  the  man  who  with  judgment  is  blest. 

Here’s  to  the  man  who’s  as  smart  as  can  be — 

I mean  the  man  who  agrees  with  me. 


ELECTIONS 

In  St.  Louis  there  is  one  ward  that  is  full  of  breweries  and 
Germans.  In  a recent  election  a local  option  question  was  up. 


158 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


After  the  election  some  Germans  were  counting  the  votes.  One 
German  was  calling  off  and  another  taking  down  the  option 
votes.  The  first  German,  running  rapidly  through  the  ballots, 
said:  “Vet,  vet,  vet,  vet,  . . .”  Suddenly  he  stopped.  “Mein 

Gott!”  he  cried:  “Dry!” 

Then  he  went  on — “Vet,  vet,  vet,  vet,  . . 

Presently  he  stopped  again  and  mopped  his  brow.  “Himmel  !” 
he  said.  “Der  son  of  a gun  repeated !” 

Willis — “What’s  the  election  today  for?  Anybody  happen  to 
know?,, 

Gillis — “It  is  to  determine  whether  we  shall  have  a conven- 
tion to  nominate  delegates  who  will  be  voted  on  as  to  whether 
they  will  attend  a caucus  which  will  decide  whether  we  shall 
have  a primary  to  determine  whether  the  people  want  to  vote 
on  this  same  question  again  next  year.” — Puck. 

One  year,  when  the  youngsters  of  a certain  Illinois  village 
met  for  the  purpose  of  electing  a captain  of  their  baseball  team 
for  the  coming  season,  it  appeared  that  there  were  an  excessive 
number  of  candidates  for  the  post,  with  more  than  the  usual 
wrangling. 

Youngster  after  youngster  presented  his  qualifications  for  the 
post;  and  the  matter  was  still  undecided  when  the  son  of  the 
owner  of  the  ball-field  stood  up.  He  was  a small,  snub-nosed 
lad,  with  a plentiful  supply  of  freckles,  but  he  glanced  about  him 
with  a dignified  air  of  controlling  the  situation. 

“I’m  going  to  be  captain  this  year,”  he  announced  convinc- 
ingly, “or  else  Father’s  old  bull  is  going  to  be  turned  into  the 
field.” 

He  was  elected  unanimously. — Fenimore  Martin. 

I consider  biennial  elections  as  a security  that  the  sober 
second  thought  of  the  people  shall  be  law. — Fisher  Ames. 

ELECTRICITY 

In  school  a boy  was  asked  this  question  in  physics : “What 

is  the  difference  between  lightning  and  electricity?” 

And  he  answered:  “Well,  you  don’t  have  to  pay  for  light- 

ning.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


159 


EMBARRASSING  SITUATIONS 

A young  gentleman  was  spending  the  week-end  at  little 
Willie’s  cottage  at  Atlantic  City,  and  on  Sunday  evening  after 
dinner,  there  being  a scarcity  of  chairs  on  the  crowded  piazza, 
the  young  gentleman  took  Willie  on  his  lap. 

Then,  during  a pause  in  the  conversation,  little  Willie  looked 
up  at  the  young  gentleman  and  piped : 

“Am  I as  heavy  as  sister  Mabel?” 


The  late  Charles  Coghlan  was  a man  of  great  wit  and  re- 
source. When  he  was  living  in  London,  his  wife  started  for 
an  out-of-town  visit.  For  some  reason  she  found  it  necessary 
to  return  home,  and  on  her  way  thither  she  saw  her  husband 
step  out  of  a cab  and  hand  a lady  from  it.  Mrs.  Coghlan  con- 
fronted the  pair.  The  actor  was  equal  to  the  situation. 

“My  dear,”  he  said  to  his  wife,  “allow  me  to  present  Miss 
Blank.  Mrs.  Coghlan,  Miss  Blank.” 

The  two  bowed  coldly  while  Coghlan  quickly  added: 

“I  know  you  ladies  have  ever  so  many  things  you  want 
to  say  to  each  other,  so  I will  ask  to  be  excused.” 

He  lifted  his  hat,  stepped  into  the  cab,  and  was  whirled 
away. 


The  evening  callers  were  chatting  gaily  with  the  Kinterbys 
when  a patter  of  little  feet  was  heard  from  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  Mrs.  Kinterby  raised  her  hand,  warning  the  others  to 
silence. 

“Hush !”  she  said,  softly.  “The  children  are  going  to  de- 
liver their  ‘good-night’  message.  It  always  gives  me  a feel- 
ing of  reverence  to  hear  them — they  are  so  much  nearer  the 
Creator  than  we  are,  and  they  speak  the  love  that  is  in  their 
little  hearts  never  so  fully  as  when  the  dark  has  come.  Lis- 
ten!” 


i6o 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


There  was  a moment  of  tense  silence.  Then — “Mama,” 
came  the  message  in  a shrill  whisper,  “Willy  found  a bedbug !” 

“I  was  in  an  awkward  predicament  yesterday  morning/’ 
said  a husband  to  another. 

“How  was  that?” 

“Why,  I came  home  late,  and  my  wife  heard  me  and  said, 
‘John,  what  time  is  it?’  and  I said,  ‘Only  twelve,  my  dear,’ 
and  just  then  that  cuckoo  clock  of  ours  sang  out  three  times.” 

“What  did  you  do?” 

“Why,  I just  had  to  stand  there  and  cuckoo  nine  times 
more.” 

“Your  husband  will  be  all  right  now/’  said  an  English  doc- 
tor to  a woman  whose  husband  was  dangerously  ill. 

“What  do  you  mean?”  demanded  the  wife.  “You  told  me 
’e  couldn’t  live  a fortnight.” 

“Well,  I’m  going  to  cure  him,  after  all,”  said  the  doctor. 
“Surely  you  are  glad?” 

The  woman  wrinkled  her  brows. 

“Puts  me  in  a bit  of  an  ’ole,”  she  said.  “I’ve  bin  an’  sold 
all  ’is  clothes  to  pay  for  ’is  funeral.” 

EMPLOYERS  AND  EMPLOYEES 

“You  want  more  money?  Why,  my  boy,  I worked  three 
years  for  $11  a month  right  in  this  establishment,  and  now 
I’m  owner  of  it.” 

“Well,  you  see  what  happened  to  your  boss.  No  man  who 
treats  his  help  that  way  can  hang  on  to  his  business.” 

Earnest  Young  Man — “Have  you  any  advice  to  a strug- 
gling young  employee?” 

Frank  Old  Gentleman — “Yes.  Don’t  work.” 

Earnest  Young  Man — “Don’t  work?” 

Frank  Old  Gentleman — “No.  Become  an  employer.” 

General  Benjamin  F.  Butler  built  a house  in  Washington  on 
the  same  plans  as  his  home  in  Lowell,  Mass.,  and  his  studies 
were  furnished  in  exactly  the  same  way.  He  and  his  secre- 
tary, M.  W.  Clancy,  afterward  City  Clerk  of  Washington  for 
many  years,  were  constantly  traveling  between  the  two  places. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


161 


One  day  a senator  called  upon  General  Butler  in  Lowell 
and  the  next  day  in  Washington  to  find  him  and  his  secre- 
tary engaged  upon  the  same  work  that  had  occupied  them  in 
Massachusetts. 

‘‘Heavens,  Clancy,  don’t  you  ever  stop?” 

“No,”  interposed  General  Butler, 

“ ‘Satan  finds  some  michief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do/” 

Clancy  arose  and  bowed,  saying: 

“General,  I never  was  sure  until  now  what  my  employer 
was.  I had  heard  the  rumor,  but  I always  discredited  it.” 

W.  J.  (“Fingy”)  Conners,  the  New  York  politician,  who 
is  not  precisely  a Chesterfield,  secured  his  first  great  freight - 
handling  contract  when  he  was  a roustabout  on  the  Buffalo 
docks.  When  the  job  was  about  to  begin  he  called  a thousand 
burly  “dock-wallopers”  to  order,  as  narrated  by  one  of  his 
business  friends : 

“Now,”  roared  Conners,  “yez  are  to  worruk  for  me,  and  I 
want  ivery  man  here  to  understand  what’s  what.  I kin  lick 
anny  man  in  the  gang.” 

Nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  swallowed  the  insult,  but  one 
huge,  double-fisted  warrior  moved  uneasily  and  stepping  from 
the  line  he  said  “You  can’t  lick  me,  Jim  Conners.” 

“I  can’t,  can’t  I?”  bellowed  “Fingy.” 

“No,  you  can’t”  was  the  determined  response. 

“Oh,  well,  thin,  go  to  the  office  and  git  your  money,”  said 
“Fingy.”  “I’ll  have  no  man  in  me  gang  that  I can’t  lick.” 


Outside  his  own  cleverness  there  is  nothing  that  so  delights 
Mr.  Wiggins  as  a game  of  baseball,  and  when  he  gets  a chance 
to  exploit  the  two,  both  at  the  same  time,  he  may  be  said 
to  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  Hence  it  was  that  the 
other  day,  when  little  red  headed  Willie  Mulligan,  his  office 
boy,  came  sniffing  into  his  presence  to  ask  for  the  afternoon 
off  that  he  might  attend  his  grandfather’s  funeral,  Wiggins 
deemed  it  a masterly  stroke  to  answer : 

“Why,  certainly,  Willie.  What’s  more,  my  boy,  if  you’ll 
wait  for  me  I’ll  go  with  you.” 


i62 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“All  right,  sir,”  sniffed  Willie  as  he  returned  to  his  desk 
and  waited  patiently. 

And,  lo  and  behold,  poor  little  Willie  had  told  the  truth, 
and  when  he  and  Wiggins  started  out  together  the  latter  not 
only  lost  one  of  the  best  games  of  the  season,  but  had  to  at- 
tend the  obsequies  of  an  old  lady  in  whom  he  had  no  interest 
whatever  as  well. 

Chief  Clerk  (to  office  boy) — “Why  on  earth  don’t  you 
laugh  when  the  boss  tells  a joke?” 

Office  Boy — “I  don’t  have  to;  I quit  on  Saturday.” — Satire. 

James  J.  Hill,  the  Railway  King,  told  the  following  amus- 
ing incident  that  happened  on  one  of  his  roads: 

“One  of  our  division  superintendents  had  received  numer- 
ous complaints  that  freight  trains  were  in  the  habit  of  stopping 
on  a grade  crossing  in  a certain  small  town,  thereby  block- 
ing travel  for  long  periods.  He  issued  orders,  but  still  the 
complaints  came  in.  Finally  he  decided  to  investigate  per- 
sonally. 

“A  short  man  in  size  and  very  excitable,  he  went  down  to 
the  crossing,  and,  sure  enough,  there  stood,  in  defiance  of  his 
orders,  a long  freight  train,  anchored  squarely  across  it.  A 
brakeman  who  didn’t  know  him  by  sight  sat  complacently  on 
the  top  of  the  car. 

“ ‘Move  that  train  on!’  sputtered  the  little  ‘super.’  ‘Get 
it  off  the  crossing  so  people  can  pass.  Move  on,  I say!’ 

“The  brakeman  surveyed  the  tempestuous  little  man  from 
head  to  foot.  ‘You  go  to  the  deuce,  you  little  shrimp,’  he 
replied.  ‘You’re  small  enough  to  crawl  under.’” 

ENEMIES 

An  old  man  who  had  led  a sinful  life  was  dying,  and  his 
wife  sent  for  a near-by  preacher  to  pray  with  him. 

The  preacher  spent  some  time  praying  and  talking,  and 
finally  the  old  man  said:  “What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  Par- 
son?” 

“Renounce  the  Devil,  renounce  the  Devil,”  replied  the 
preacher. 

“Well,  but,  Parson,”  protested  the  dying  man,  “I  ain’t  in 
position  to  make  any  enemies.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


163 


It  is  better  to  decide  a difference  between  enemies  than 
friends,  for  one  of  our  friends  will  certainly  become  an  enemy 
and  one  of  our  enemies  a friend. — Bias. 

The  world  is  large  when  its  weary  leagues 
two  loving  hearts  divide; 

But  the  world  is  small  when  your  enemy  is 
loose  on  the  other  side. 

— John  Boyle  O’Reilly . 

ENGLAND 

See  Great  Britain. 

ENGLISH  LANGUAGE 

A popular  hotel  in  Rome  has  a sign  in  the  elevator  read- 
ing: “Please  do  not  touch  the  Lift  at  your  own  risk.” 

The  class  at  Heidelberg  was  studying  English  conjugations, 
and  each  verb  considered  was  used  in  a model  sentence,  so 
that  the  students  would  gain  the  benefit  of  pronouncing  the 
connected  series  of  words,  as  well  as  learning  the  varying 
forms  of  the  verb.  This  morning  it  was  the  verb  “to  have” 
in  the  sentence,  “I  have  a gold  mine.” 

Herr  Schmitz  was  called  to  his  feet  by  Professor  Wulff. 

“Gonjugate  ‘do  haff’  in  der  sentence,  ‘I  haff  a golt  mine,” 
the  professor  ordered. 

“I  haff  a golt  mine,  du  hast  a golt  dein,  he  hass  a golt  hiss. 
Ve,  you  or  dey  haff  a golt  ours,  yours  or  deirs,  as  de  case 
may  be.” 

Language  is  the  expression  of  ideas,  and  if  the  people  of 
one  country  cannot  preserve  an  identity  of  ideas,  they  can- 
not retain  an  identity  of  language. — Noah  Webster. 


ENGLISHMEN 

He  who  laughs  last  is  an  Englishman. — Princeton  Tiger. 


164 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Nat  Goodwin  was  at  the  club  with  an  English  friend  and 
became  the  center  of  an  appreciative  group.  A cigar  man 
offered  the  comedian  a cigar,  saying  that  it  was  a new  pro- 
duction. 

“With  each  cigar,  you  understand,”  the  promoter  said,  “I 
will  give  a coupon,  and  when  you  have  smoked  three  thousand 
of  them  you  may  bring  the  coupons  to  me  and  exchange  them 
for  a grand  piano.” 

Nat  sniffed  the  cigar,  pinched  it  gently,  and  then  replied: 
“If  I smoked  three  thousand  of  these  cigars  I think  I would 
need  a harp  instead  of  a grand  piano.” 

There  was  a burst  of  laughter  in  which  the  Englishman 
did  not  join,  but  presently  he  exploded  with  merriment.  “I 
see  the  point”  he  exclaimed.  “Being  an  actor,  you  have  to 
travel  around  the  country  a great  deal  and  a harp  would  be 
so  much  more  convenient  to  carry.” 

ENTHUSIASM 

Theodore  Watts,  says  Charles  Rowley  in  his  book  “Fifty 
Years  of  Work  Without  Wages,”  tells  a good  story  against 
himself.  A nature  enthusiast,  he  was  climbing  Snowdon,  and 
overtook  an  old  gypsy  woman.  He  began  to  dilate  upon  the 
sublimity  of  the  scenery,  in  somewhat  gushing  phrases.  The 
woman  paid  no  attention  to  him.  Provoked  by  her  irrespons- 
iveness, he  said,  “You  don’t  seem  to  care  for  this  magnificent 
scenery?”  She  took  the  pipe  from  her  mouth  and  delivered 
this  settler:  “I  enjies  it;  I don’t  jabber.” 

EPITAPHS 

Little  Clarence — “Pa !” 

His  Father — “Well,  my  son?” 

Little  Clarence — “I  took  a walk  through  the  cemetery  to- 
day and  read  the  inscriptions  on  the  tombstones.” 

His  Father — “And  what  were  your  thoughts  after  you  had 
done  so?” 

Little  Clarence-— “Why,  pa,  I wondered  where  all  the 
wicked  people  were  buried.” — Judge. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


165 


The  widower  had  just  taken  his  fourth  wife  and  was  show- 
ing her  around  the  village.  Among  the  places  visited  was  the 
churchyard,  and  the  bride  paused  before  a very  elaborate  tomb- 
stone that  had  been  erected  by  the  bridegroom.  Being  a little 
nearsighted  she  asked  him  to  read  the  inscription,  and  in  rever- 
ent tones  he  read : 

“Here  lies  Susan,  beloved  wife  of  John  Smith;  also  Jane, 
beloved  wife  of  John  Smith;  also  Mary,  beloved  wife  of  John 
Smith ” 

He  paused  abruptly,  and  the  bride,  leaning  forward  to  see 
the  bottom  line,  read,  to'  her  horror : 

“Be  Ye  Also  Ready” 


A man  wished  to  have  something  original  on  his  wife’s  head- 
stone and  hit  upon,  “Lord,  she  was  Thine.”  He  had  his  own 
ideas  of  the  size  of  the  letters  and  the  space  between  words,  and 
gave  instructions  to  the  stonemason.  The  latter  carried  them 
out  all  right,  except  that  he  could  not  get  in  the  “E”  in  Thine. 


In  a cemetery  at  Middlebury,  Vt.,  is  a stone,  erected  by  a 
widow  to  her  loving  husband,  bearing  this  inscription : 

“Rest  in  peace — until  we  meet  again.” 


An  epitaph  in  an  old  Moravian  cemetery  reads  thus : 
Remember,  friend,  as  you  pass  by, 

As  you  are  now,  so  once  was  I ; 

As  I am  now  thus  you  must  be, 

So  be  prepared  to  follow  me. 

There  had  been  written  underneath  in  pencil,  presumably  by 
some  wag: 

To  follow  you  I’m  not  content 
Till  I find  out  which  way  you  went. 


I expected  it,  but  I didn’t  expect  it  quite  so  soon  .—Life. 


i66 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


After  Life’s  scarlet  fever 
I sleep  well. 


Here  lies  the  body  of  Sarah  Sexton, 

Who  never  did  aught  to  vex  one. 

(Not  like  the  woman  under  the  next  stone.) 


As  a general  thing,  the  writer  of  epitaphs  is  a monumental 
liar. — John  E.  Rosser . 

Maria  Brown, 

Wife  of  Timothy  Brown, 
aged  80  years. 

She  lived  with  her  husband  fifty  years,  and  died 
in  the  confident  hope  of  a better  life. 

Here  lies  the  body  of  Enoch  Holden,  who  died  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  by  being  kicked  to  death  by  a cow.  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant! 


A bereaved  husband  feeling  his  loss  very  keenly  found  it 
desirable  to  divert  his  mind  by  traveling  abroad.  Before  his 
departure,  however,  he  left  orders  for  a tombstone  with  the  in- 
scription : 

“The  light  of  my  life  has  gone  out.” 

Travel  brought  unexpected  and  speedy  relief,  and  before  the 
time  for  his  return  he  had  taken  another  wife.  It  was  then  that 
he  remembered  the  inscription,  and  thinking  it  would  not  be 
pleasing  to  his  new  wife,  he  wrote  to  the  stone-cutter,  asking 
that  he  exercise  his  ingenuity  in  adapting  it  to  the  new  condi- 
tions. After  his  return  he  took  his  new  wife  to  see  the  tomb- 
stone and  found  that  the  inscription  had  been  made  to  read: 

“The  light  of  my  life  has  gone  out, 

But  I have  struck  another  match.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


167 


Here  lies  Bernard  Lightfoot, 

Who  was  accidentally  killed  in  the  forty-fifth  year 
of  his  age. 

This  monument  was  erected  by  his  grateful  family. 

I thought  it  mushroom  when  I found 
It  in  the  woods,  forsaken; 

But  since  I sleep  beneath  this  mound, 

I must  have  been  mistaken. 

On  the  tombstone  of  a Mr.  Box  appears  this  inscription  : 

Here  lies  one  Box  within  another. 

The  one  of  wood  was  very  good, 

We  cannot  say  so  much  for  t’other. 

Nobles  and  heralds  by  your  leave, 

Here  lies  what  once  was  Matthew  Prior; 

The  son  of  Adam  and  of  Eve; 

Can  Bourbon  or  Nassau  claim  higher? 

— Prior. 

Kind  reader!  take  your  choice  to  cry  or  laugh; 

Here  Harold  lies — but  where’s  his  Epitaph? 

If  such  you  seek,  try  Westminster,  and  view 
Ten  thousand,  just  as  fit  for  him  as  you. 

— Byron. 

I conceive  disgust  at  these  impertinent  and  misbecoming 
familiarities  inscribed  upon  your  ordinary  tombstone. — Charles 
Lamb. 

EPITHETS 

John  Fiske,  the  historian,  was  once  interrupted  by  his  wife, 
who  complained  that  their  son  had  been  very  disrespectful  to 
some  neighbors.  Mr.  Fiske  called  the  youngster  into  his  study. 
“My  boy,  is  it  true  that  you  called  Mrs.  Jones  a fool?” 

The  boy  hung  his  head.  “Yes,  father.” 


i68 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“And  did  you  call  Mr.  Jones  a worse  fool?” 

“Yes,  father.” 

Mr.  Fiske  frowned  and  pondered  for  a minute.  Then  he 
said : 

“Well,  my  son,  that  is  just  about  the  distinction  I should 
make.” 

“See  that  man  over  there.  He  is  a bombastic  mutt,  a wind- 
jammer nonentity,  a false  alarm,  and  an  encumberer  of  the 
earth!” 

“Would  you  mind  writing  all  that  down  for  me?” 

“Why  in  the  world ” 

“He's  my  husband,  and  I should  like  to  use  it  on  him  some 
time.” 

EQUALITY 

As  one  of  the  White  Star  steamships  came  up  New  York 
harbor  the  other  day,  a grimy  coal  barge  floated  immediately  in 
front  of  her.  “Clear  out  of  the  way  with  that  old  mud  scow !” 
shouted  an  officer  on  the  bridge. 

A round,  sun-browned  face  appeared  over  the  cabin  hatch- 
way. “Are  ye  the  captain  of  that  vessel?” 

“No,”  answered  the  officer. 

“Then  spake  to  yer  equals.  I'm  the  captain  o’  this !”  came 
from  the  barge. 

ERMINE 

Said  an  envious,  erudite  ermine : 

“There’s  one  thing  I cannot  determine : 

When  a man  wears  my  coat, 

He’s  a person  of  note, 

While  I’m  but  a species  of  vermin!” 

ESCAPES 

There  was  once  a chap  who  went  skating  too  early  and  all  of 
a sudden  that  afternoon  loud  cries  for  help  began  to  echo  among 
the  bleak  hills  that  surrounded  the  skating  pond. 

A farmer,  cobbling  his  boots  before  his  kitchen  fire  heard  the 
shouts  and  yells,  and  ran  to  the  pond  at  break-neck  speed.  He 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


169 


saw  a large  black  hole  in  the  ice,  and  a pale  young  fellow  stood 
with  chattering  teeth  shoulder-deep  in  the  cold  water. 

The  farmer  laid  a board  on  the  thin  ice  and  crawled  out  on 
it  to  the  edge  of  the  hole.  Then,  extending  his  hand,  he  said : 

“Here,  come  over  this  way,  and  HI  lift  you  out.” 

“No,  I can’t  swim,”  was  the  impatient  reply.  “Throw  a rope 
to  me.  Hurry  up.  It’s  cold  in  here.” 

“I  ain’t  got  no  rope,”  said  the  farmer;  and  he  added  angrily. 
“What  if  you  can’t  swim — you  can  wade,  I guess ! The  water’s 
only  up  to  your  shoulders.” 

“Up  to  my  shoulders?”  said  the  young  fellow.  “It’s  eight 
feet  deep  if  it’s  an  inch.  I’m  standing  on  the  blasted  fat  man 
who  broke  the  ice  1” 

ETHICS 

My  ethical  state, 

Were  I wealthy  and  great, 

Is  a subject  you  wish  I’d  reply  on. 

Now  who  can  foresee 
What  his  morals  might  be? 

What  would  yours  be  if  you  were  a lion? 

Martial ; tr.  by  Paul  Nixon. 

ETIQUET 

A Boston  girl  the  other  day  said  to  a southern  friend  who 
was  visiting  her,  as  two  men  rose  in  a car  to  give  them  seats : 
“Oh,  I wish  they  would  not  do  it.”  “Why  not?  I think  it  is 
very  nice  of  them,”  said  her  friend,  settling  herself  comfort- 
ably. “Yes,  but  one  can’t  thank  them,  you  know,  and  it  is  so 
awkward.”  “Can’t  thank  them!  Why  not?”  “Why,  you  would 
not  speak  to  a strange  man,  would  you?”  said  the  Boston 
naiden,  to  the  astonishment  of  her  southern  friend. 

A little  girl  on  the  train  to  Pittsburgh  was  chewing  gum.  Not 
only  that,  but  she  insisted  on  pulling  it  out  in  long  strings  and 
letting  it  fall  back  into  her  mouth  again. 

“Mabel!”  said  her  mother  in  a horrified  whisper.  “Mabel, 
don’t  do  that.  Chew  your  gum  like  a little  lady.” 


170 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Little  Brother — “What's  etiquet?" 

Little  Bigger  Brother — “It’s  saying  ‘No,  thank  you,'  when 
you  want  to  holler  ‘Gimme  !’  ” — Judge. 


A Lady  there  was  of  Antigua, 

Who  said  to  her  spouse,  “What  a pig  you  are !’’ 

He  answered,  “My  queen, 

Is  it  manners  you  mean, 

Or  do  you  refer  to  my  figure?" 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 


They  were  at  dinner  and  the  dainties  were  on  the  table. 

“Will  you  take  tart  or  pudding?"  asked  Papa  of  Tommy. 
“Tart,"  said  Tommy  promptly. 

His  father  sighed  as  he  recalled  the  many  lessons  on  manners 
he  had  given  the  boy. 

“Tart,  what?"  he  queried  kindly. 

But  Tommy’s  eyes  were  glued  on  the  pastry. 

“Tart,  what?"  asked  the  father  again,  sharply  this  time. 
“Tart,  first,"  answered  Tommy  triumphantly. 


Tommy’s  Aunt — “Won’t  you  have  another  piece  of  cake, 
Tommy?" 

Tommy  (on  a visit) — “No,  I thank  you." 

Tommy’s  Aunt — “You  seem  to  be  suffering  from  loss  of  ap- 
petite." 

Tommy — “That  ain’t  loss  of  appetite.  What  I’m  sufferin’ 
from  is  politeness." 


There  was  a young  man  so  benighted, 
He  never  knew  when  he  was  slighted; 
He  would  go  to  a party, 

And  eat  just  as  hearty, 

As  if  he’d  been  really  invited. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


171 


EUROPEAN  WAR 

Officer  (as  Private  Atkins  worms  his  way  toward  the 
enemy) — “You  fool!  Come  back  at  once!” 

Tommy — “No  bally  fear,  sir!  There’s  a hornet  in  the 
trench.” — Punchy 

“You  can  tell  an  Englishman  nowadays  by  the  way  he  holds 
his  head  up.” 

“Pride,  eh?” 

“No,  Zeppelin  neck.” 

Little  Girl  (who  has  been  sitting  very  still  with  a seraphic 
expression) — “I  wish  I was  an  angel,  mother!” 

Mother — “What  makes  you  say  that,  darling?” 

Little  Girl — “Because  then  I could  drop  bombs  on  the 
Germans !” — Punch. 

From  a sailor’s  letter  to  his  wife: 

“Dear  Jane, — I am  sending  you  a postal  order  for  10s., 
which  I hope  you  may  get — but  you  may  not — as  this  letter  has 
to  pass  the  Censor.” — Punch. 

Two  country  darkies  listened,  awe-struck,  while  some  plant- 
ers discussed  the  tremendous  range  of  the  new  German  guns. 

“Dar  now,”  exclaimed  one  negro,  when  his  master  had 
finished  expatiating  on  the  hideous  havoc  wrought  by  a forty- 
two-centimeter  shell,  “jes’  lak  I bin  tellin’  yo’  niggehs  all  de 
time ! Don’  le’s  have  no  guns  lak  dem  roun’  heah ! Why,  us 
niggehs  could  start  runnin’  erway — run  all  day,  git  almos’ 
home  free,  an’  den  git  kilt  jus’  befo’  suppeh!” 

“Dat’s  de  trufe,”  assented  his  companion,  “an’  lemme  tell 
yo’  sumpin’  else,  Bo.  All  dem  guns  needs  is  jus’  yo’  ad-dress, 
dat’s  all;  jes’  giv’  em  de  ad-dress  an’  they’ll  git  yo’.” 

See  also  War. 


EVIDENCE 

From  a crowd  of  rah-rah  college  boys  celebrating  a crew 
victory,  a policeman  had  managed  to  extract  two  prisoners. 

“What  is  the  charge  against  these  young  men?”  asked  the 
magistrate  before  whom  they  were  arraigned. 


172 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Disturbin’  the  peace,  yer  honor,”  said  the  policeman. 
“They  were  givin’  their  college  yells  in  the  street  an’  makin’ 
trouble  generally.” 

“What  is  your  name?”  the  judge  asked  one  of  the  prison- 
ers. 

“Ro-ro-robert  Ro-ro-rollins,”  stuttered  the  youth. 

“I  asked  for  your  name,  sir, — not  the  evidence.” 


Maud  Muller,  on  a summer  night, 

Turned  down  the  only  parlor  light. 

The  judge,  beside  her,  whispered  things 
Of  wedding  bells  and  diamond  rings. 

He  spoke  his  love  in  burning  phrase, 

And  acted  foolish,  forty  ways. 

When  he  had  gone  Maud  gave  a laugh 
And  then  turned  off  the  dictagraph. 

— Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

One  day  a hostess  asked  a well  known  Parisian  judge: 

“Your  Honor,  which  do  you  prefer,  Burgundy  or  Bor- 
deaux?” 

“Madame,  that  is  a case  in  which  I have  so  much  pleasure 
in  taking  the  evidence  that  I always  postpone  judgment,”  was 
the  wily  jurist’s  reply. 

See  also  Courts;  Witnesses. 

EXAMINATIONS 

An  instructor  in  a church  school  where  much  attention  was 
paid  to  sacred  history,  dwelt  particularly  on  the  phrase  “And 
Enoch  was  not,  for  God  took  him.”  So  many  times  was  this 
repeated  in  connection  with  the  death  of  Enoch  that  he  thought 
even  the  dullest  pupil  would  answer  correctly  when  asked  in 
examination : State  in  the  exact  language  of  the  Bible  what 
is  said  of  Enoch’s  death.  . 

But  this  was  the  answer  he  got: 

“Enoch  was  not  what  God  took  him  for.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


173 


A member  of  the  faculty  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin 
tells  of  some  amusing  replies  made  by  a pupil  undergoing  an 
examination  in  English.  The  candidate  had  been  instructed 
to  write  out  examples  of  the  indicative,  the  subjunctive,  the 
potential  and  the  exclamatory  moods.  His  efforts  resulted  as 
follows : 

“I  am  endeavoring  to  pass  an  English  examination.  If  I 
answer  twenty  questions  I shall  pass.  If  I answer  twelve  ques- 
tions I may  pass.  God  help  me !” 

The  following  selection  of  mistakes  in  examinations  may 
convince  almost  any  one  that  there  are  some  peaks  of  ig- 
norance which  he  has  yet  to  climb : 

Magna  Charta  said  that  the  King  had  no  right  to  bring  sol- 
diers into  a lady’s  house  and  tell  her  to  mind  them. 

Panama  is  a town  of  Colombo,  where  they  are  trying  to 
make  an  isthmus. 

The  three  highest  mountains  in  Scotland  are  Ben  Nevis, 
Ben  Lomond  and  Ben  Jonson. 

Wolsey  saved  his  life  by  dying  on  the  way  from  York  to 
London. 

Bigamy  is  when  a man  tries  to  serve  two  masters. 

“Those  melodious  bursts  that  fill  the  spacious  days  of  great 
Elizabeth”  refers  to  the  songs  that  Queen  Elizabeth  used  to 
write  in  her  spare  time. 

Tennyson  wrote  a poem  called  Grave’s  Energy. 

The  Rump  Parliament  consisted  entirely  of  Cromwell’s 
stalactites. 

The  plural  of  spouse  is  spice. 

Queen  Elizabeth  rode  a white  horse  from  Kenilworth 
through  Coventry  with  nothing  on,  and  Raleigh  offered  her 
his  cloak. 

The  law  allowing  only  one  wife  is  called  monotony. 

When  England  was  placed  under  an  Interdict  the  Pope 
stopped  all  births,  marriages  and  deaths  for  a year. 

The  Pyramids  are  a range  of  mountains  between  France 
and  Spain. 

The  gods  of  the  Indians  are  chiefly  Mahommed  and  Bud- 
dha, and  in  their  spare  time  they  do  lots  of  carving. 

Every  one  needs  a holiday  from  one  year’s  end  to  another. 


174 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  Seven  Great  Powers  of  Europe  are  gravity,  electricity, 
steam,  gas,  fly-wheels,  and  motors,  and  Mr.  Lloyd  George. 

The  hydra  was  married  to  Henry  VIII.  When  he  cut  off 
her  head  another  sprung  up. 

Liberty  of  conscience  means  doing  wrong  and  not  worry- 
ing about  it  afterward. 

The  Habeas  Corpus  act  was  that  no  one  need  stay  in  prison 
longer  than  he  liked. 

Becket  put  on  a camel-air  shirt  and  his  life  at  once  be- 
came dangerous. 

The  two  races  living  in  the  north  of  Europe  are  Esquimaux 
and  Archangels. 

Skeleton  is  what  you  have  left  when  you  take  a man’s  in- 
sides out  and  his  outsides  off. 

Ellipsis  is  when  you  forget  to  kiss. 

A bishop  without  a diocese  is  called  a suffragette. 

Artificial  perspiration  is  the  way  to  make  a person  alive 
when  they  are  only. just  dead. 

A night  watchman  is  a man  employed  to  sleep  in  the  open 

air. 

The  tides  are  caused  by  the  sun  drawing  the  water  out  and 
the  moon  drawing  it  in  again. 

The  liver  is  an  infernal  organ  of  the  body. 

A circle  is  a line  which  meets  its  other  end  without  end- 
ing. 

Triangles  are  of  three  kinds,  the  equilateral  or  three-sided, 
the  quadrilateral  or  four-sided,  and  the  multilateral  or  poly- 
glot. 

General  Braddock  was  killed  in  the  Revolutionary  War. 
He  had  three  horses  shot  under  him  and  a fourth  went 
through  his  clothes. 

A buttress  is  the  wife  of  a butler. 

The  young  Pretender  was  so  called  because  it  was  pre- 
tended that  he  was  born  in  a frying-pan. 

A verb  is  a word  which  is  used  in  order  to  make  an  exer- 
tion. 

A Passive  Verb  is  when  the  subject  is  the  sufferer,  e.  g.,  I 
am  loved. 

Lord  Raleigh  was  the  first  man  to  see  the  invisible  Ar- 
mada. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


175 


A schoolmaster  is  called  a pedigree. 

The  South  of  the  U.  S.  A.  grows  oranges,  figs,  melons  and 
a great  quantity  of  preserved  fruits,  especially  tinned  meats. 

The  wife  of  a Prime  Minister  is  called  a Primate. 

The  Greeks  were  too  thickly  populated  to  be  comfortable. 

The  American  war  was  started  because  the  people  would 
persist  in  sending  their  parcels  thru  the  post  without  stamps. 

Prince  William  was  drowned  in  a butt  of  Malmsey  wine; 
he  never  laughed  again. 

The  heart  is  located  on  the  west  side  of  the  body. 

Richard  iT  iir  said:^  murdered  by  some  his- 

torians; his  real  fate  is  uncertain. 

Subjects  have  a right  to  partition  the  king. 

A kaiser  is  a stream  of  hot  water  springin’  up  an1  dis- 
tubin’  the  earth. 

He  had  nothing  left  to  live  for  but  to  die. 

Franklin’s  education  was  got  by  himself.  He  worked  him- 
self up  to  be  a great  literal  man.  He  was  also  able  to  invent 
electricity.  Franklin’s  father  was  a tallow  chandelier. 

Monastery  is  the  place  for  monsters. 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  put  out  once  when  his  servant 
found  him  with  fire  in  his  head.  And  one  day  after  there 
had  been  a lot  of  rain,  he  threw  his  cloak  in  a puddle  and 
the  queen  stepped  dryly  over. 

The  Greeks  planted  colonists  for  their  food  supplies. 

Nicotine  is  so  deadly  a poison  that  a drop  on  the  end  of  a 
dog’s  tail  will  kill  a man. 

A mosquito  is  the  child  of  black  and  white  parents. 

An  author  is  a queer  animal  because  his  tales  (tails)  come 
from  his  head. 

Wind  is  air  in  a hurry. 

The  people  that  come  to  America  found  Indians,  but  no 
people. 

Shadows  are  rays  of  darkness. 

Lincoln  wrote  the  address  while  riding  from  Washington  to 
Gettysburg  on  an  envelope. 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  tall  and  thin,  but  she  was  a stout 
protestant. 

An  equinox  is  a man  who  lives  near  the  north  pole. 


176 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


An  abstract  noun  is  something  we  can  think  of  but  cannot 
feel — as  a red  hot  poker. 

The  population  of  New  England  is  too  dry  for  farming. 

Anatomy  is  the  human  body,  which  consists  of  three  parts, 
the  head,  the  chist,  and  the  stummick.  The  head  contains 
the  eyes  and  brains,  if  any.  The  chist  contains  the  lungs  and 
a piece  of  the  liver.  The  stummick  is  devoted  to  the  bowels, 
of  which  there  are  five,  a,  e,  i,  o,  u,  and  sometimes  w and  y. 

Filigree  means  a list  of  your  descendants. 

“The  Complete  Angler”  was  written  by  Euclid  because  he 
knew  all  about  angles. 

The  imperfect  tense  in  French  is  used  to  express  a future 
action  in  past  time  which  does  not  take  place  at  all. 

Arabia  has  many  syphoons  and  very  bad  ones;  It  gets  into 
your  hair  even  with  your  mouth  shut. 

The  modern  name  for  Gaul  is  vinegar. 

Some  of  the  West  India  Islands  are  subject  to  torpedoes. 

The  Crusaders  were  a wild  and  savage  people  until  Peter 
the  Hermit  preached  to  them. 

On  the  low  coast  plains  of  Mexico  yellow  fever  is  very 
popular. 

Louis  XVI  was  gelatined  during  the  French  Revolution. 

Gender  shows  whether  a man  is  masculine,  feminine,  or 
neuter. 

An  angle  is  a triangle  with  only  two  sides. 

Geometry  teaches  us  how  to  bisex  angels. 

Gravitation  is  that  which  if  there  were  none  we  should  all 
fly  away. 

A vacuum  is  a large  empty  space  where  the  Pope  lives. 

A deacon  is  the  lowest  kind  of  Christian. 

Vapor  is  dried  water. 

The  Salic  law  is  that  you  must  take  everything  with  a grain 
of  salt. 

The  Zodiac  is  the  Zoo  of  the  sky,  where  lions,  goats  and 
other  animals  go  after  they  are  dead. 

The  Pharisees  were  people  who  like  to  show  off  their  good- 
ness by  praying  in  synonyms. 

An  abstract  noun  is  something  you  can’t  see  when  you  are 
looking  at  it. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


1 77 


EXCUSES 

The  children  had  been  reminded  that  they  must  not  appear 
at  school  the  following  week  without  their  application  blanks 
properly  filled  out  as  to  names  of  parents,  addresses,  dates  and 
place  of  birth.  On  Monday  morning  Katie  Barnes  arrived,  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks.  “What  is  the  trouble  ?” 
Miss  Green  inquired,  seeking  to  comfort  her.  “Oh,”  sobbed 
the  little  girl,  “I  forgot  my  excuse  for  being  born.” 

O.  Henry  always  retained  the  whimsical  sense  of  humor 
which  made  him  quickly  famous.  Shortly  before  his  death  he 
called  on  the  cashier  of  a New  York  publishing  house,  after 
vainly  writing  several  times  for  a check  which  had  been  prom- 
ised as  an  advance  on  his  royalties. 

“I’m  sorry,”  explained  the  cashier,  “but  Mr.  Blank,  who 
signs  the  checks,  is  laid  up  with  a sprained  ankle.” 

“But,  my  dear  sir,”  expostulated  the  author,  “does  he  sign 
them  with  his  feet?” 

Strolling  along  the  boardwalk  at  Atlantic  City,  Mr.  Mulli- 
gan, the  wealthy  retired  contractor,  dropped  a quarter  through 
a crack  in  the  planking.  A friend  came  along  a minute  later 
and  found  him  squatted  down,  industriously  poking  a two 
dollar  bill  through  the  treacherous  cranny  with  his  forefinger. 

“Mulligan,  what  the  divvil  ar-re  ye  doin’?”  inquired  the 
friend. 

“Sh-h,”  said  Mr.  Mulligan,  “I’m  tryin’  to  make  it  wort’  me 
while  to  tear  up  this  board.” 

A captain,  inspecting  his  company  one  morning,  came  to 
an  Irishman  who  evidently  had  not  shaved  for  several  days. 

“Doyle,”  he  asked,  “how  is  it  that  you  haven’t  shaved  this 
morning?” 

“But  Oi  did,  sor.” 

“How  dare  you  tell  me  that  with  the  beard  you  have  on 
your  face?” 

“Well,  ye  see,  sor,”  stammered  Doyle,  “there  wus  nine  of 
us  to  one  small  bit  uv  a lookin’-glass,  an’  it  must  be  thot  in 
th’  gineral  confusion  Oi  shaved  some  other  man’s  face.” 


178 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Is  that  you,  dear?”  said  a young  husband  over  the  tele- 
phone. “I  just  called  up  to  say  that  I’m  afraid  I won’t  be 
able  to  get  home  to  dinner  to-night,  as  I am  detained  at  the 
office.” 

“You  poor  dear,”  answered  the  wife  sympathetically.  “I 
don’t  wonder.  I don’t  see  how  you  manage  to  get  anything 
done  at  all  with  that  orchestra  playing  in  your  office.  Good- 
by.” 


“What  is  the  matter,  dearest?”  asked  the  mother  of  a small 
girl  who  had  been  discovered  crying  in  the  hall. 

“Somfing  awful’s  happened,  Mother.” 

“Well,  what  is  it,  sweetheart?” 

“My  d’doll-baby  got  away  from  me  and  broked  a plate  in 
the  pantry.” 

A poor  casual  laborer,  working  on  a scaffolding,  fell  five 
stories  to  the  ground.  As  his  horrified  mates  rushed  down 
pell-mell  to  his  aid,  he  picked  himself  up,  uninjured,  from  a 
great,  soft  pile  of  sand. 

“Say,  fellers,”  he  murmured  anxiously,  “is  the  boss  mad? 
Tell  him  I had  to  come  down  anyway  for  a ball  of  twine.” 

Cephas  is  a darky  come  up  from  Maryland  to  a border 
town  in  Pennsylvania,  where  he  has  established  himself  as  a 
handy  man  to  do  odd  jobs.  He  is  a good  worker,  and  sober, 
but  there  are  certain  proclivities  of  his  which  necessitate  a 
pretty  close  watch  on  him.  Not  long  ago  he  was  caught  with 
a chicken  under  his  coat,  and  was  haled  to  court  to  explain  its 
presence  there. 

“Now,  Cephas,”  said  the  judge  very  kindly,  “you  have  got 
into  a new  place,  and  you  ought  to  have  new  habits.  We  have 
been  good  to  you  and  helped  you,  and  while  we  like  you  as 
a sober  and  industrious  worker,  this  other  business  cannot  be 
tolerated.  Why  did  you  take  Mrs.  Gilkie’s  chicken?” 

Cephas  was  stumped,  and  he  stood  before  the  majesty  of 
the  law,  rubbing  his  head  and  looking  ashamed  of  himself. 
Finally  he  answered : 

“Deed,  I dunno,  Jedge,”  he  explained,  “ceptin’  ’t  is  dat 
chickens  is  chickens  and  niggers  is  niggers.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


179 


Grandma — “Johnny,  I have  discovered  that  you  have  taken 
more  maple-sugar  than  I gave  you.” 

Johnny — “Yes,  Grandma,  I’ve  been  making  believe  there 
was  another  little  boy  spending  the  day  with  me.” 

Mr.  X was  a prominent  member  of  the  B.  P.  O.  E.  At  the 
breakfast  table  the  other  morning  he  was  relating  to  his  wife 
an  incident  that  occurred  at  the  lodge  the  previous  night.  The 
president  of  the  order  offered  a silk  hat  to  the  brother  who 
could  stand  up  and  truthfully  say  that  during  his  married  life 
he  had  never  kissed  any  woman  but  his  own  wife.  “And, 
would  you  believe  it,  Mary? — not  a one  stood  up.”  “George,” 
his  wife  said,  “why  didn’t  you  stand  up?”  “Well,”  he  replied, 
“I  was  going  to,  but  I know  I look  like  hell  in  a silk  hat.” 

And  oftentimes  excusing  of  a fault 

Doth  make  the  fault  the  worse  by  the  excuse, 

As  patches  set  upon  a little  breach, 

Discredit  more  in  hiding  of  the  fault 
Than  did  the  fault  before  it  was  so  patched. 

— Shakespeare. 

EXPOSURE 

Tramp — “Lady,  I’m  dying  from  exposure.” 

Woman — “Are  you  a tramp,  politician  or  financier?” — 
Judge. 


EXTORTION 


See  Dressmakers. 


EXTRAVAGANCE 

There  was  a young  girl  named  O’Neill, 

Who  went  up  in  the  great  Ferris  wheel; 

But  when  half  way  around 
She  looked  at  the  ground, 

And  it  cost  her  an  eighty-cent  meal. 

Everybody  knew  that  John  Polkinhorn  was  the  carelessest 
man  in  town,  but  nobody  ever  thought  he  was  careless  enough 


i8o 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


to  marry  Susan  Rankin,  seeing  that  he  had  known  her  for 
years.  For  awhile  they  got  along  fairly  well  but  one  day  after 
five  years  of  it  John  hung  himself  in  the  attic,  where  Susan 
used  to  dry  the  wash  on  rainy  days,  and  a carpenter,  who 
went  up  to  the  roof  to  do  some  repairs,  found  him  there.  He 
told  Susan,  and  Susan  hurried  up  to  see  about  it,  and,  sure 
enough,  the  carpenter  was  right.  She  stood  looking  at  her 
late  husband  for  about  a minute — kind  of  dazed,  the  carpenter 
thought — then  she  spoke. 

“Well,  I declare!”  she  exclaimed.  “If  he  hasn’t  used  my 
new  clothes-line,  and  the  old  would  have  done  every  bit  as 
well!  But,  of  course,  that’s  just  like  John  Polkinhorn.” 

“The  editor  of  my  paper,”  declared  the  newspaper  business 
manager  to  a little  coterie  of  friends,  “is  a peculiar  genius. 
Why,  would  you  believe  it,  when  he  draws  his  weekly  salary 
he  keeps  out  only  one  dollar  for  spending  money  and  sends  the 
rest  to  his  wife  in  Indianapolis !” 

His  listeners — with  one  exception,  who  sat  silent  and  re- 
flective— gave  vent  to  loud  murmurs  of  wonder  and  admira- 
tion. 

“Now,  it  may  sound  thin,”  added  the  speaker,  “but  it  is 
true,  nevertheless.” 

“Oh,  I don’t  doubt  it  at  all!”  quickly  rejoined  the  quiet 
one;  “I  was  only  wondering  what  he  does  with  the  dollar!” 

An  Irish  soldier  was  recently  given  leave  of  absence  the 
morning  after  pay  day.  When  his  leave  expired  he  didn’t  ap- 
pear. He  was  brought  at  last  before  the  commandant  for  sen- 
tence, and  the  following  dialogue  is  recorded: 

“Well,  Murphy,  you  look  as  if  you  had  had  a severe  en- 
gagement.” 

“Yes,  sur.” 

“Have  you  any  money  left?” 

“No,  sur.” 

“You  had  $35  when  you  left  the  fort,  didn’t  you?” 

“Yes,  sur.” 

“What  did  you  do  with  it?” 

“Well,  sur,  I was  walking  along  and  I met  a friend,  and 
we  went  into  a place  and  spint  $8.  Thin  we  came  out  and  I 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


181 


met  another  friend  and  we  spint  $8  more,  and  thin  I come 
out  and  we  met  another  friend  and  we  spint  $8  more,  and 
thin  we  come  out  and  we  met  another  bunch  of  friends,  and 
I spint  $8  more — and  thin  I come  home.” 

“But,  Murphy,  that  makes  only  $32.  What  did  you  do 
with  the  other  $3?”  Murphy  thought.  Then  he  shook  his 
head  slowly  and  said : 

“I  dunno,  colonel,  I reckon  I must  have  squandered  that 
money  foolishly.” 

FAILURES 

Little  Ikey  came  up  to  his  father  with  a very  solemn  face. 
“Is  it  true,  father,”  he  asked,  “that  marriage  is  a failure?” 

His  father  surveyed  him  thoughtfully  for  a moment. 
“Well,  Ikey,”  he  finally  replied,  “If  you  get  a rich  wife,  it’s 
almost  as  good  as  a failure.” 

FAITH 

Faith  is  that  quality  which  leads  a man  to  expect  that  his 
flowers  and  garden  will  resemble  the  views  shown  on  the 
seed  packets. — Country  Life  in  America. 

“What  is  faith,  Johnny?”  asks  the  Sunday  school  teacher. 

“Pa  says,”  answers  Johnny,  “that  it’s  readin’  in  the  papers 
that  the  price  o’  things  has  come  down,  an  expectin’  to  find 
it  true  when  the  bills  comes  in.” 

Faith  is  believing  the  dentist  when  he  says  it  isn’t  going  to 
hurt. 

“As  I understand  it,  Doctor,  if  I believe  I’m  well,  I’ll  be 
well.  Is  that  the  idea?” 

“It  is.” 

“Then,  if  you  believe  you  are  paid,  I suppose  you’ll  be 
paid.” 

“Not  necessarily.” 

“But  why  shouldn’t  faith  work  as  well  in  one  case  as  in 
the  other?” 

“Why,  you  see,  there  is  considerable  difference  between 
having  faith  in  Providence  and  having  faith  in  you.” — Horace 
Zimmerman. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


182 


Mother  had  been  having  considerable  argument  with  her 
infant  daughter  as  to  whether  the  latter  was  going  to  be  left 
alone  in  a dark  room  to  go  to  sleep.  As  a clincher,  the  mother 
said:  “There  is  no  reason  at  all  why  you  should  be  afraid. 
Remember  that  God  is  here  all  the  time,  and,  besides,  you  have 
your  dolly.  Now  go  to  sleep  like  a good  little  girl/’  Twen- 
ty minutes  later  a wail  came  from  upstairs,  and  mother  went 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  to  pacify  her  daughter.  “Don’t  cry,” 
she  said;  “remember  what  I told  you — God  is  there  with  you 
and  you  have  your  dolly.”  “But  I don’t  want  them,”  wailed 
the  baby;  “I  want  you,  muvver;  I want  somebody  here  that 
has  got  a skin  face  on  them.” 

Faith  is  a fine  invention 
For  gentlemen  who  see; 

But  Microscopes  are  prudent 
In  an  emergency. 

— Emily  Dickinson. 


FAITHFULNESS 

A wizened  little  Irishman  applied  for  a job  loading  a ship. 
At  first  they  said  he  was  too  small,  but  he  finally  persuaded 
them  to  give  him  a trial.  He  seemed  to  be  making  good,  and 
they  gradually  increased  the  size  of  his  load  until  on  the  last 
trip  he  was  carrying  a 300-pound  anvil  under  each  arm.  When 
he  was  half-way  across  the  gangplank  it  broke  and  the  Irish- 
man fell  in.  With  a great  splashing  and  spluttering  he  came 
to  the  surface. 

“T’row  me  a rope,  I say!”  he  shouted  again.  Once  more 
he  sank.  A third  time  he  rose  struggling. 

“Say!”  he  spluttered  angrily,  “if  one  uv  you  shpalpeens 
don’t  hurry  up  an’  t’row  me  a rope  I’m  goin’  to  drop  one  uv 
these  damn  t’ings !” 

FAME 

Fame  is  the  feeling  that  you  are  the  constant  subject  of  ad- 
miration on  the  part  of  people  who  are  not  thinking  of  you. 


L 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


183 


Many  a man  thinks  he  has  become  famous  when  he  has 
merely  happened  to  meet  an  editor  who  was  hard  up  for  mate- 
rial. 

Were  not  this  desire  of  fame  very  strong,  the  difficulty  of  ob- 
taining it,  and  the  danger  of  losing  it  when  obtained,  would  be 
sufficient  to  deter  a man  from  so  vain  a pursuit. — Addison. 

FAMILIES 

“Yes,  sir,  our  household  represents  the  United  Kingdom  of 
Great  Britain,”  said  the  proud  father  of  number  one  to  the 
rector.  “I  am  English,  my  wife’s  Irish,  the  nurse  is  Scotch  and 
the  baby  wails.” 

Mrs.  O’Flarity  is  a scrub  lady,  and  she  had  been  absent  from 
her  duties  for  several  days.  Upon  her  return  her  employer 
asked  her  the  reason  for  her  absence. 

“Sure,  I’ve  been  carin’  for  wan  of  me  sick  children,”  she  re- 
plied. 

“And  how  many  children  have  you,  Mrs.  O’Flarity?”  he 
asked. 

“Siven  in  all,”  she  replied.  “Four  by  the  third  wife  of  me 
second  husband ; three  by  the  second  wife  of  me  furst.” 

A man  descended  from  an  excursion  train  and  was  wearily 
making  his  way  to  the  street-car,  followed  by  his  wife  and  four- 
teen children,  when  a policeman  touched  him  on  the  shoulder 
and  said : 

“Come  along  wid  me.” 

“What  for?” 

“Blamed  if  I know;  but  when  ye’re  locked  up  I’ll  go  back 
and  find  out  why  that  crowd  was  following  ye.” 

FAREWELLS 

Happy  are  we  met,  Happy  have  we  been, 

Happy  may  we  part,  and  Happy  meet  again. 

A dear  old  citizen  went  to  the  cars  the  other  day  to  see  his 
daughter  off  on  a journey.  Securing  her  a seat  he  passed  out 


i 


1 84 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


of  the  car  and  went  around  to  the  car  window  to  say  a last  part- 
ing word.  While  he  was  leaving  the  car  the  daughter  crossed 
the  aisle  to  speak  to  a friend,  and  at  the  same  time  a grim  old 
maid  took  the  seat  and  moved  up  to  the  window. 

Unaware  of  the  change  the  old  gentleman  hurriedly  put  his 
head  up  to  the  window  and  said : “One  more  kiss,  pet.” 

In  another  instant  the  point  of  a cotton  umbrella  was  thrust 
from  the  window,  followed  by  the  wrathful  injunction:  “Scat, 
you  gray-headed  wretch !” 

“I  am  going  to  make  my  farewell  tour  in  Shakespeare.  What 
shall  be  the  play?  Hamlet?  Macbeth?” 

“This  is  your  sixth  farewell  tour,  I believe.” 

“Well,  yes.” 

“I  would  suggest  “Much  Adieu  About  Nothing.” 

“Farewell !” 

For  in  that  word — that  fatal  word — howe’er 
We  promise — hope — believe — there  breathes  despair. 

— Byron. 


FASHION 

There  are  two  kinds  of  women : The  fashionable  ones  and 
those  who  are  comfortable. — Tom  P . Morgan. 

There  had  been  a dressmaker  in  the  house  and  Minnie  had 
listened  to  long  discussions  about  the  very  latest  fashions.  That 
night  when  she  said  her  prayers,  she  added  a new  petition,  ut- 
tered with  unwonted  fervency: 

“And,  dear  Lord,  please  make  us  all  very  stylish.” 

Nothing  is  thought  rare 

Which  is  not  new,  and  follow’d ; yet  we  know 
That  what  was  worn  some  twenty  years  ago 
Comes  into  grace  again. 

— Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

As  good  be  out  of  the  World  as  out  of  the  Fashion. — Colley 
Cibber. 


4 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


185 


FATE 

Fate  hit  me  very  hard  one  day. 

I cried:  “What  is  my  fault? 

What  have  I done?  What  causes,  pray, 

This  unprovoked  assault?” 

She  paused,  then  said:  “Darned  if  I know; 

I really  can’t  explain.” 

Then  just  before  she  turned  to  go 
She  whacked  me  once  again! 

— La  Touche  Hancock. 

So  in  the  Libyan  fable  it  is  told 
That  once  an  eagle  stricken  with  a dart, 

Said,  when  he  saw  the  fashion  of  the  shaft, 

“With  our  own  feathers,  not  by  others’  hands, 

Are  we  now  smitten.” 

Azschylus. 


FATHERS 

A director  of  one  of  the  great  transcontinental  railroads 
was  showing  his  three-year-old  daughter  the  pictures  in  a work 
on  natural  history.  Pointing  to  a picture  of  a zebra,  he  asked 
the  baby  to  tell  him  what  it  represented.  Baby  answered 
“Coty.” 

Pointing  to  a picture  of  a tiger  in  the  same  way,  she  an- 
swered “Kitty.”  Then  a lion,  and  she  answered  “Doggy.” 
Elated  with  her  seeming  quick  perception,  he  then  turned  to 
the  picture  of  a Chimpanzee  and  said : 

“Baby,  what  is  this?” 

“Papa.” 


FAULTS 

Women’s  faults  are  many, 
Men  have  only  two — 
Everything  they  say, 

And  everything  they  do. 


— Le  Crabbe. 


i86 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


See  Tips. 


FEES 


FEET 

Big  Man  (with  a grouch) — “Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  get 
off  my  feet?” 

Little  Man  (with  a bundle) — “I'll  try,  sir.  Is  it  much  of  a 
walk?” 


FIGHTING 

“Who  gave  ye  th’  black  eye,  Jim?” 

“Nobody  give  it  t’  me;  I had  t’  fight  fer  it.” — Life. 

“There!  You  have  a black  eye,  and  your  nose  is  bruised, 
and  your  coat  is  torn  to  bits,”  said  Mamma,  as  her  youngest 
appeared  at  the  door.  “How  many  times  have  I told  you  not 
to  play  with  that  bad  Jenkins  boy?” 

“Now,  look  here,  Mother,”  said  Bobby,  “do  I look  as  if 
we’d  been  playing?” 

Two  of  the  leading  attorneys  of  Memphis,  who  had  been 
warm  friends  for  years,  happened  to  be  opposing  counsel  in  a 
case  some  time  ago.  The  older  of  the  two  was  a man  of  mag- 
nificent physique,  almost  six  feet  four,  and  built  in  proportion, 
while  the  younger  was  barely  five  feet  and  weighed  not  more 
than  ninety  pounds. 

In  the  course  of  his  argument  the  big  man  unwittingly  made 
some  remark  that  aroused  the  ire  of  his  small  adversary.  A 
moment  later  he  felt  a great  pulling  and  tugging  at  his  coat 
tails.  Looking  down,  he  was  greatly  astonished  to  see  his 
opponent  wildly  gesticulating  and  dancing  around  him. 

“What  on  earth  are  you  trying  to  do  there,  Dudley?”  he 
asked. 

“By  Gawd,  suh,  I’m  fightin’,  suh!” 

An  Irishman  boasted  that  he  could  lick  any  man  in  Boston, 
yes,  Massachusetts,  and  finally  he  added  New  England.  When 
he  came  to,  he  said:  “I  tried  to  cover  too  much  territory.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


1 87 


“Dose  Irish  make  me  sick,  alvays  talking  about  vat  gread 
fighders  dey  are,”  said  a Teutonic  resident  of  Hoboken,  with 
great  contempt.  “Vhy,  at  Minna’s  vedding  der  odder  night  dot 
drunken  Mike  O’Hooligan  butted  in,  und  me  und  mein  bruder, 
und  mein  cousin  Fritz  und  mein  frient  Louie  Hartmann — vhy, 
ve  pretty  near  kicked  him  oudt  of  der  house !” 

Village  Grocer — “What  are  you  running  for,  sonny?” 

Boy — “I’m  tryin’  to  keep  two  fellers  from  fightin’.” 

Village  Grocer — “Who  are  the  fellows?” 

Boy — “Bill  Perkins  and  me!” — Puck. 

An  aged,  gray-haired  and  very  wrinkled  old  woman,  ar- 
rayed in  the  outlandish  calico  costume  of  the  mountains,  was 
summoned  as  a witness  in  court  to  tell  what  she  knew  about  a 
fight  in  her  house.  She  took  the  witness-stand  with  evidences 
of  backwardness  and  proverbial  Bourbon  verdancy.  The  Judge 
asked  her  in  a kindly  voice  what  took  place.  She  insisted 
it  did  not  amount  to  much,  but  the  Judge  by  his  persistency 
finally  got  her  to  tell  the  story  of  the  bloody  fracas. 

“Now,  I tell  ye,  Jedge,  it  didn’t  amount  to  nuthn’.  The 
fust  I knowed  about  it  was  when  Bill  Saunder  called  Tom 
Smith  a liar,  en  Tom  knocked  him  down  with  a stick  o’  wood. 
One  o’  Bill’s  friends  then  cut  Tom  with  a knife,  slicin’  a big 
chunk  out  o’  him.  Then  Sam  Jones,  who  was  a friend  of 
Tom’s,  shot  the  other  feller  and  two  more  shot  him,  en  three 
or  four  others  got  cut  right  smart  by  somebody.  That  nachly 
caused  some  excitement,  Jedge,  en  then  they  commenced 
fightin’.” 

“Do  you  mean  to  say  such  a physical  wreck  as  he  gave  you 
that  black  eye?”  asked  the  magistrate. 

“Sure,  your  honor,  he  wasn’t  a physical  wreck  till  after  he 
gave  me  the  black  eye,”  replied  the  complaining  wife. — London 
Telegraph. 

A pessimistic  young  man  dining  alone  in  a restaurant 
ordered  broiled  live  lobster.  When  the  waiter  put  it  on  the 
table  it  was  obviously  minus  one  claw.  The  pessimistic  young 
man  promptly  kicked.  The  waiter  said  it  was  unavoidable — 
there  had  been  a fight  in  the  kitchen  between  two  lobsters.  The 


i88 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


other  one  had  torn  off  one  of  the  claws  of  this  lobster  and  had 
eaten  it.  The  young  man  pushed  the  lobster  over  toward  the 
waiter.  “Take  it  away,”  he  said  wearily,  “and  bring  me  the 
winner.” 

There  never  was  a good  war  or  a bad  peace. — Benjamin 
Franklin. 

The  master-secret  in  fighting  is  to  strike  once,  but  in  the 
right  place. — John  C.  Snaith. 

FINANCE 

Willie  had  a savings  bank; 

’Twas  made  of  painted  tin. 

He  passed  it  ’round  among  the  boys, 

Who  put  their  pennies  in. 

Then  Willie  wrecked  that  bank  and  bought 
Sweetmeats  and  chewing  gum. 

And  to  the  other  envious  lads 
He  never  offered  some. 

“What  will  we  do?”  his  mother  said: 

“It  is  a sad  mischance.” 

His  father  said : “We’ll  cultivate 
His  gift  for  high  finance.” 

— Washington  Star. 

Hicks — “I’ve  got  to  borrow  $200  somewhere.” 

Wicks — “Take  my  advice  and  borrow  $300  while  you  are 
about  it.” 

“But  I only  need  $200.” 

“That  doesn’t  make  any  difference.  Borrow  $300  and  pay 
back  $100  of  it  in  two  installments  at  intervals  of  a month  or 
so.  Then  the  man  that  you  borrow  from  will  think  he  is  going 
to  get  the  rest  of  it.” 

It  is  said  J.  P.  Morgan  could  raise  $10,000,000  on  his  check 
any  minute;  but  the  man  who  is  raising  a large  family  on  $9 
a week  is  a greater  financier  than  Morgan. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


189 

To  modernize  an  old  prophecy,  “out  of  the  mouths  of  babes 
shall  come  much  worldly  wisdom/’  Mr.  K.  has  two  boys 
whom  he  dearly  loves.  One  day  he  gave  each  a dollar  to 
spend.  After  much  bargaining,  they  brought  home  a wonder- 
ful four-wheeled  steamboat  and  a beautiful  train  of  cars.  For 
awhile  the  transportation  business  flourished,  and  all  was  well, 
but  one  day  Craig  explained  to  his  father  that  while  business 
had  been  good,  he  could  do  much  better  if  he  only  had  the 
capital  to  buy  a train  of  cars  like  Joe’s.  His  arguments  must 
have  been  good,  for  the  money  was  forthcoming.  Soon  after, 
little  Joe,  with  probably  less  logic  but  more  loving,  became 
possessed  of  a dollar  to  buy  a steamboat  like  Craig’s.  But 
Mr.  K.,  who  had  furnished  the  additional  capital,  looked  in 
vain  for  the  improved  service.  The  new  rolling  stock  was  not 
in  evidence,  and  explanations  were  vague  and  unsatisfactory, 
as  is  often  the  case  in  the  railroad  game  at  which  men  play. 
It  took  a stern  court  of  inquiry  to  develop  the  fact  that  the 
railroad  and  steamship  had  simply  changed  hands — and  at  a 
mutual  profit  of  one  hundred  per  cent.  And  Mr.  K.,  as  he  told 
his  neighbor,  said  it  was  worth  that  much  to  know  that  his 
boys  would  not  need  much  of  a legacy  from  him. — P.  A.  Ker- 
shaw. 

An  old  artisan  who  prided  himself  on  his  ability  to  drive 
a close  bargain  contracted  to  paint  a huge  barn  in  the  neigh- 
borhood for  the  small  sum  of  twelve  dollars. 

“Why  on  earth  did  you  agree  to  do  it  for  so  little?”  his 
brother  inquired. 

“Well,”  said  the  old  painter,  “you  see,  the  owner  is  a 
mighty  onreliable  man.  If  I’d  said  I’d  charge  him  twenty- 
five  dollars,  likely  he’d  have  only  paid  me  nineteen.  And  if  I 
charge  him  twelve  dollars,  he  may  not  pay  me  but  nine.  So  I 
thought  it  over,  and  decided  to  paint  it  for  twelve  dollars,  so 
I wouldn’t  lose  so  much.” 


FINGER-BOWLS 

Mistress  (to  new  servant) — “Why,  Bridget,  this  is  the 
third  time  I’ve  had  to  tell  you  about  the  finger-bowls.  Didn’t 
the  lady  you  last  worked  for  have  them  on  the  table?” 


190 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Bridget — “No,  mum;  her  friends  always  washed  their  hands 
before  they  came.” 


FIRE  DEPARTMENTS 

Clang,  clatter,  bang ! Down  the  street  came  the  fire  engines. 

Driving  along  ahead,  oblivious  of  any  danger,  was  a farmer 
in  a ramshackle  old  buggy.  A policeman  yelled  at  him:  “Hi 
there,  look  out!  The  fire  department’s  coming.” 

Turning  in  by  the  curb  the  farmer  watched  the  hose  cart, 
salvage  wagon  and  engine  whiz  past.  Then  he  turned  out  into 
the  street  again  and  drove  on.  Barely  had  he  started  when  the 
hook  and  ladder  came  tearing  along.  The  rear  wheel  of  the 
big  truck  slewed  into  the  farmer’s  buggy,  smashing  it  to  smith- 
ereens and  sending  the  farmer  sprawling  into  the  gutter.  The 
policeman  ran  to  his  assistance. 

“Didn’t  I tell  ye  to  keep  out  of  the  way?”  he  demanded 
crossly.  “Didn’t  I tell  ye  the  fire  department  was  cornin’?” 

“Wall,  consarn  ye,”  said  the  peeved  farmer,  “I  did  git  outer 
the  way  for  th’  fire  department.  But  what  in  tarnation  was 
them  drunken  painters  in  sech  an  all-fired  hurry  fer? 

Two  Irishmen  fresh  from  Ireland  had  just  landed  in  New 
York  and  engaged  a room  in  the  top  story  of  a hotel.  Mike, 
being  very  sleepy,  threw  himself  on  the  bed  and  was  soon  fast 
asleep.  The  sights  were  so  new  and  strange  to  Pat  that  he  sat 
at  the  window  looking  out.  Soon  an  alarm  of  fire  was  rung  in 
and  a fire-engine  rushed  by  throwing  up  sparks  of  fire  and 
clouds  of  smoke.  This  greatly  excited  Pat,  who  called  to  his 
comrade  to  get  up  and  come  to  the  window,  but  Mike  was 
fast  asleep.  Another  engine  soon  followed  the  first,  spouting 
smoke  and  fire  like  the  former.  This  was  too  much  for  poor 
Pat,  who  rushed  excitedly  to  the  bedside,  and  shaking  his 
friend  called  loudly: 

“Mike,  Mike,  wake  up!  They  are  moving  Hell,  and  two 
loads  have  gone  by  already.” 

FIRE  ESCAPES 

Fire  escape:  A steel  stairway  on  the  exterior  of  a building, 
erected  after  a FIRE  to  ESCAPE  the  law. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


191 


FIRES 

“Ikey,  I hear  you  had  a fire  last  Thursday.” 

“Sh ! Next  Thursday” 

FIRST  AID  IN  ILLNESS  AND  INJURY 

The  father  of  the  family  hurried  to  the  telephone  and  called 
up  the  family  physician.  “Our  little  boy  is  sick,  Doctor,”  he 
said,  “so  please  come  at  once.” 

“I  can’t  get  over  much  under  an  hour,”  said  the  doctor. 

“Oh  please  do,  Doctor.  You  see,  my  wife  has  a book  on 
‘What  to  Do  Before  the  Doctor  Comes/  and  I’m  so  afraid 
she’ll  do  it  before  you  get  here!” 

Nurse  Girl — “Oh,  ma’am,  what  shall  I do?  The  twins 
have  fallen  down  the  well!” 

Fond  Parent — “Dear  me!  how  annoying!  Just  go  into 
the  library  and  get  the  last  number  of  The  Modern  Mother’s 
Magazine;  it  contains  an  article  on  ‘How  to  Bring  Up  Chil- 
dren/ ” 

Surgeon  at  New  York  Hospital — “What  brought  you  to 
this  dreadful  condition?  Were  you  run  over  by  a street-car?” 

Patient — “No,  sir;  I fainted,  and  was  brought  to  by  a 
member  of  the  Society  of  First  Aid  to  the  Injured.” — Life. 

A prominent  physician  was  recently  called  to  his  telephone 
by  a colored  woman  formerly  in  the  service  of  his  wife.  In 
great  agitation  the  woman  advised  the  physician  that  her 
youngest  child  was  in  a bad  way. 

“What  seems  to  be  the  trouble?”  asked  the  doctor. 

“Doc,  she  done  swallered  a bottle  of  ink!” 

“I’ll  be  over  there  in  a short  while  to  see  her,”  said  the  doc- 
tor. “Have  you  done  anything  for  her?” 

“I  done  give  her  three  pieces  o’  blottin’-paper,  Doc,”  said 
the  colored  woman  doubtfully. 

FISH 

A man  went  into  a restaurant  recently  and  said,  “Give  me  a 
half  dozen  fried  oysters.” 

“Sorry,  sah,”  answered  the  waiter,  “but  we’s  all  out  o’  shell 
fish,  sah,  ’ceptin’  eggs.” 


192 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Little  Elizabeth  and  her  mother  were  having  luncheon  to- 
gether, and  the  mother,  who  always  tried  to  impress  facts  upon 
her  young  daughter,  said: 

‘‘These  little  sardines,  Elizabeth,  are  sometimes  eaten  by  the 
larger  fish.,, 

Elizabeth  gazed  at  the  sardines  in  wonder,  and  then  asked: 

“But,  mother,  how  do  the  large  fish  get  the  cans  open?” 


FISHERMEN 

At  the  birth  of  President  Cleveland’s  second  child  no  scales 
could  be  found  to  weigh  the  baby.  Finally  the  scales  that  the 
President  always  used  to  weigh  the  fish  he  caught  on  his  trips 
were  brought  up  from  the  cellar,  and  the  child  was  found  to 
weigh  twenty-five  pounds. 

“Doin’  any  good?”  asked  the  curious  individual  on  the 
bridge. 

“Any  good?”  answered  the  fisherman,  in  the  creek  below. 
“Why  I caught  forty  bass  out  o’  here  yesterday.” 

“Say,  do  you  know  who  I am?”  asked  the  man  on  the 
bridge. 

The  fisherman  replied  that  he  did  not. 

“Well,  I am  the  county  fish  and  game  warden.” 

The  angler,  after  a moment’s  thought,  exclaimed,  “Say,  do 
you  know  who  I am?” 

“No,”  the  officer  replied. 

“Well,  I’m  the  biggest  liar  in  eastern  Indiana,”  said  the 
crafty  angler,  with  a grin. 

A young  lady  who  had  returned  from  a tour  through  Italy 
with  her  father  informed  a friend  that  he  liked  all  the  Italian 
cities,  but  most  of  all  he  loved  Venice. 

“Ah,  Venice,  to  be  sure!”  said  the  friend.  “I  can  readily 
understand  that  your  father  would  like  Venice,  with  its  gon- 
dolas, and  St.  Markses  and  Michelangelos.” 

“Oh,  no,”  the  young  lady  interrupted,  “it  wasn’t  that.  He 
liked  it  because  he  could  sit  in  the  hotel  and  fish  from  the 
window.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


193 


Smith  the  other  day  went  fishing.  He  caught  nothing,  so 
on  his  way  back  home  he  telephoned  to  his  provision  dealer  to 
send  a dozen  of  bass  around  to  his  house. 

He  got  home  late  himself.  His  wife  said  to  him  on  his  ar- 
rival : 

“Well,  what  luck?” 

“Why,  splendid  luck,  of  course,”  he  replied.  “Didn’t  the 
boy  bring  that  dozen  bass  I gave  him?” 

Mrs.  Smith  started.  Then  she  smiled. 

“Well,  yes,  I suppose  he  did,”  she  said.  “There  they  are.” 

And  she  showed  poor  Smith  a dozen  bottles  of  Bass’s  ale. 

“You’ll  be  a man  like  one  of  us  some  day,”  said  the  pat- 
ronizing sportsman  to  a lad  who  was  throwing  his  line  into 
the  same  stream. 

“Yes,  sir,”  he  answered,  “I  s’pose  I will  some  day,  but  I 
b’lieve  I’d  rather  stay  small  and  ketch  a few  fish.” 

The  more  worthless  a man,  the  more  fish  he  can  catch. 

As  no  man  is  born  an  artist,  so  no  man  is  born  an  angler. 

— Izaak  Walton. 


FISHING 

A man  was  telling  some  friends  about  a proposed  fishing 
trip  to  a lake  in  Colorado  which  he  had  in  contemplation. 

“Are  there  any  trout  out  there?”  asked  one  friend. 

“Thousands  of  ’em,”  replied  Mr.  Wharry. 

“Will  they  bite  easily?”  asked  another  friend. 

“Will  they?”  said  Mr.  Wharry.  “Why  they’re  absolutely 
vicious.  A man  has  to  hide  behind  a tree  to  bait  a hook.” 

“I  got  a bite — I got  a bite !”  sang  out  a tiny  girl  member  of  a 
fishing  party.  But  when  an  older  brother  hurriedly  drew  in 
the  line  there  was  only  a bare  hook.  “Where’s  the  fish?”  he 
asked.  “He  unbit  and  div,”  said  the  child. 


194 


TOASIER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  late  Justice  Brewer  was  with  a party  of  New  York 
friends  on  a fishing  trip  in  the  Adirondacks,  and  around  the 
camp  fire  one  evening  the  talk  naturally  ran  on  big  fish.  When 
it  came  his  turn  the  jurist  began,  uncertain  as  to  how  he  was 
going  to  come  out: 

“We  were  fishing  one  time  on  the  Grand  Banks  for — er — 
for — ” 

“Whales,”  somebody  suggested. 

“No,”  said  the  Justice,  “we  were  baiting  with  whales.” 

“Lo,  Jim!  Fishin’?” 

“Naw;  drowning  worms.” 

We  may  say  of  angling  as  Dr.  Boteler  said  of  strawberries: 

“Doubtless  God  could  have  made  a better  berry,  but  doubt- 
less God  never  did”;  and  so  (if  I might  be  judge),  God  never 
did  make  a more  calm,  quiet,  innocent  recreation  than  angling. 
— Izaak  Walton. 

FLATS 

“Hello,  Tom,  old  man,  got  your  new  flat  fitted  up  yet?” 

“Not  quite,”  answered  the  friend.  “Say,  do  you  know 
where  I can  buy  a folding  toothbrush?” 

She  hadn’t  told  her  mother  yet  of  their  first  quarrel,  but 
she  took  refuge  in  a flood  of  tears. 

“Before  we  were  married  you  said  you’d  lay  down  your  life 
for  me,”  she  sobbed. 

“I  know  it,”  he  returned  solemnly;  “but  this  confounded 
flat  is  so  tiny  that  there’s  no  place  to  lay  anything  down.” 

FLATTERY 

With  a sigh  she  laid  down  the  magazine  article  upon  Daniel 
O’Connell.  “The  day  of  great  men,”  she  said,  “is  gone  for- 
ever.” 

“But  the  day  of  beautiful  women  is  not,”  he  responded. 

She  smiled  and  blushed.  “I  was  only  joking,”  she  explained, 
hurriedly. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


195 


Magistrate  (about  to  commit  for  trial) — “You  certainly 
effected  the  robbery  in  a remarkably  ingenious  way;  in  fact, 
with  quite  exceptional  cunning.” 

Prisoner — “Now,  yer  honor,  no  flattery,  please;  no  flattery, 
I begs  yer.” 

Old  Maid — “But  why  should  a great  strong  man  like  you 
be  found  begging?” 

Wayfarer — “Dear  lady,  it  is  the  only  profession  I know  in 
which  a gentleman  can  address  a beautiful  woman  without  an 
introduction.” 


William  was  said  to  be  the  ugliest,  though  the  most 

lovable,  man  in  Louisiana.  On  returning  to  the  plantation 
after  a short  absence,  his  brother  said : 

“Willie,  I met  in  New  Orleans  a Mrs.  Forrester  who  is  a 
great  admirer  of  yours.  She  said,  though,  that  it  wasn’t  so 
much  the  brillancy  of  your  mental  attainments  as  your  mar- 
velous physical  and  facial  beauty  which  charmed  and  delighted 
her.” 

“Edmund,”  cried  William  earnestly,  “that  is  a wicked  lie, 
but  tell  it  to  me  again !” 

“You  seem  to  be  an  able-bodied  man.  You  ought  to  be 
strong  enough  to  work.” 

“I  know,  mum.  And  you  seem  to  be  beautiful  enough  to 
go  on  the  stage,  but  evidently  you  prefer  the  simple  life.” 

After  that  speech  he  got  a square  meal  and  no  reference 
to  the  woodpile. 


O,  that  men’s  ears  should  be 
To  counsel  deaf,  but  not  to  flattery! 

— Shakespeare. 


FLIES 


See  Pure  food. 


196 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


FLIRTATION 

It  sometimes  takes  a girl  a long  time  to  learn  that  a flirta- 
tion is  attention  without  intention. 

“There’s  a belief  that  summer  girls  are  always  fickle.” 

‘"Yes,  I got  engaged  on  that  theory,  but  it  looks  as  if  I’m 
in  for  a wedding  or  a breach  of  promise  suit.” 

A teacher  in  one  of  the  primary  grades  of  the  public  school 
had  noticed  a striking  platonic  friendship  that  existed  between 
Tommy  and  little  Mary,  two  of  her  pupils. 

Tommy  was  a bright  enough  youngster,  but  he  wasn’t  dis- 
posed to  prosecute  his  studies  with  much  energy,  and  his  teach- 
er said  that  unless  he  stirred  himself  before  the  end  of  the 
year  he  wouldn’t  be  promoted. 

“You  must  study  harder,”  she  told  him,  “or  you  won’t  pass. 
How  would  you  like  to  stay  back  in  this  class  another  year 
and  have  little  Mary  go  ahead  of  you?” 

“Ah,”  said  Tommy.  “I  guess  there’ll  be  other  little  Marys.” 

FLOWERS 

Lulu  was  watching  her  mother  working  among  the  flowers. 
“Mama,  I know  why  flowers  grow,”  she  said;  “they  want  to 
get  out  of  the  dirt.” 


FOOD 

A man  went  into  a southern  restaurant  not  long  ago  and 
asked  for  a piece  of  old-fashioned  Washington  pie.  The  wait- 
er, not  understanding  and  yet  unwilling  to  concede  his  lack 
of  knowledge,  brought  the  customer  a piece  of  chocolate  cake. 

“No,  no,  my  friend,”  said  the  smiling  man.  “I  meant  George 
Washington,  not  Booker  Washington.” 

One  day  a pastor  was  calling  upon  a dear  old  lady,  one  of 
the  “pillars”  of  the  church  to  which  they  both  belonged.  As  he 
thought  of  her  long  and  useful  life,  and  looked  upon  her  sweet, 
placid  countenance  bearing  but  few  tokens  of  her  ninety-two 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


197 


years  of  earthly  pilgrimage,  he  was  moved  to  ask  her,  “My 
dear  Mrs.  S.,  what  has  been  the  chief  source  of  your  strength 
and  sustenance  during  all  these  years?  What  has  appealed  to 
you  as  the  real  basis  of  your  unusual  vigor  of  mind  and  body, 
and  has  been  to  you  an  unfailing  comfort  through  joy  and 
sorrow?  Tell  me,  that  I may  pass  the  secret  on  to  others,  and, 
if  possible,  profit  by  it  myself.,, 

The  old  lady  thought  a moment,  then  lifting  her  eyes,  dim 
with  age,  yet  kindling  with  sweet  memories  of  the  past,  an- 
swered briefly,  “Victuals.” — Sarah  L.  Tenney . 


A girl  reading  in  a paper  that  fish  was  excellent  brain-food 
wrote  to  the  editor: 

Dear  Sir:  Seeing  as  you  say  how  fish  is  good  for  the 
brains,  what  kind  of  fish  shall  I eat? 

To  this  the  editor  replied: 

Dear  Miss : Judging  from  the  composition  of  your  letter  I 
should  advise  you  to  eat  a whale. 


A hungry  customer  seated  himself  at  a table  in  a quick-lunch 
restaurant  and  ordered  a chicken  pie.  When  it  arrived  he 
raised  the  lid  and  sat  gazing  at  the  contents  intently  for  a 
while.  Finally  he  called  the  waiter. 

“Look  here,  Sam,”  he  said,  “what  did  I order?” 

“Chicken  pie,  sah.” 

“And  what  have  you  brought  me?” 

“Chicken  pie,  sah.” 

“Chicken  pie,  you  black  rascal !”  the  customer  replied. 
“Chicken  pie?  Why,  there’s  not  a piece  of  chicken  in  it,  and 
never  was.” 

“Dat’s  right,  boss — dey  ain’t  no  chicken  in  it.” 

“Then  why  do  you  call  it  chicken  pie?  I never  heard  of 
such  a thing.” 

“Dat’s  all  right,  boss.  Dey  don’t  have  to  be  no  chicken  in 
a chicken  pie.  Dey  ain’t  no  dog  in  a dog  biscuit,  is  dey?” 


See  also  Dining. 


198 


TO  AST  ER’S  HANDBOOK 


FOOTBALL 

His  Sister— “His  nose  seems  broken.” 

His  Fiancee — “And  he’s  lost  his  front  teeth.” 

His  Mother — “But  he  didn’t  drop  the  ball!” — Life . 

FORDS 

A boy  stood  with  one  foot  on  the  sidewalk  and  the  other  on 
the  step  of  a Ford  automobile.  A playmate  passed  him,  looked 
at  his  position,  then  sang  out:  “Hey,  Bobbie,  have  you  lost  your 
other  skate?” 

A farmer  noticing  a man  in  automobile  garb  standing  in 
the  road  and  gazing  upward,  asked  him  if  he  were  watching 
the  birds. 

“No,”  he  answered,  “I  was  cranking  my  Ford  car  and  my 
hand  slipped  off  and  the  thing  got  away  and  went  straight  up 
in  the  air.” 

FORECASTING 

A lady  in  a southern  town  was  approached  by  her  colored 
maid. 

“Well,  Jenny?”  she  asked,  seeing  that  something  was  in  the 

air. 

“Please,  Mis’  Mary,  might  I have  the  aft’noon  off  three 
weeks  frum  Wednesday?”  Then,  noticing  an  undecided  look  in 
her  mistress’s  face,  she  added  hastily — “I  want  to  go  to  my 
finance’s  fun’ral.” 

“Goodness  me,”  answered  the  lady — “Your  finance’s  funeral ! 
Why,  you  don’t  know  that  he’s  even  going  to  die,  let  alone  the 
date  of  his  funeral.  That  is  something  we  can’t  any  of  us  be 
sure  about — when  we  are  going  to  die.” 

“Yes’m,”  said  the  girl  doubtfully.  Then,  with  a triumphant 
note  in  her  voice — “I’se  sure  about  him,  Mis’,  ’cos  he’s  goin’ 
to  be  hung!” 


FORESIGHT 

“They  tell  me  you’re  working  ’ard  night  an’  day,  Sarah?” 
her  bosom  friend  Ann  said. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


199 


“Yes,”  returned  Sarah.  “I'm  under  bonds  to  keep  the  peace 
for  pullin’  the  whiskers  out  of  that  old  scoundrel  of  a husban’ 
of  mine,  and  the  Magistrate  said  that  if  I come  afore  ’im  ag’in, 
or  laid  me  ’ands  on  the  old  man,  he’d  fine  me  forty  shillings !” 
“And  so  you’re  working  ’ard  to  keep  out  of  mischief?” 
“Not  much;  I’m  workin’  ’ard  to  save  up  the  fine!” 

“Mike,  I wish  I knew  where  I was  goin’  to  die.  I'd  give 
a thousand  dollars  to  know  the  place  where  I’m  goin’  to  die.” 
“Well,  Pat,  what  good  would  it  do  if  yez  knew?” 

“Lots,”  said  Pat.  “Shure  I’d  never  go  near  that  place.” 

There  once  was  a pious  young  priest, 

Who  lived  almost  wholly  on  yeast; 

“For,”  he  said,  “it  is  plain 
We  must  all  rise  again, 

And  I want  to  get  started,  at  least.” 

FORGETFULNESS 


See  Memory. 


FORTUNE  HUNTERS 

Her  Father — “So  my  daughter  has  consented  to  become 
your  wife.  Have  you  fixed  the  day  of  the  wedding?” 

Suitor — “I  will  leave  that  to  my  fiancee.” 

H.  F. — “Will  you  have  a church  or  a private  wedding?” 

S. — “Her  mother  can  decide  that,  sir.” 

H.  F. — “What  have  you  to  live  on?” 

S. — “I  will  leave  that  entirely  to  you,  sir.” 

The  London  consul  of  a continental  kingdom  was  informed 
by  his  government  that  one  of  his  countrywomen,  supposed  to 
be  living  in  Great  Britain,  had  been  left  a large  fortune.  After 
advertising  without  result,  he  applied  to  the  police,  and  a 
smart  young  detective  was  set  to  work.  A few  weeks  later  his 
chief  asked  how  he  was  getting  on. 

“I’ve  found  the  lady,  sir.” 


200 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“Good!  Where  is  she?” 

“At  my  place.  I married  her  yesterday.” 

“I  would  die  for  you,”  said  the  rich  suitor. 

“How  soon?”  asked  the  practical  girl. 

He — “I’d  like  to  meet  Miss  Bond.” 

She— “Why?” 

“I  hear  she  has  thirty  thousand  a year  and  no  incumbrance.’ 

“Is  she  looking  for  one?” — Life. 

Maude — “I’ve  just  heard  of  a case  where  a man  married 
a girl  on  his  deathbed  so  she  could  have  his  millions  when  he 
was  gone.  Could  you  love  a girl  like  that?” 

Jack — “That’s  just  the  kind  of  a girl  I could  love.  What’s 
her  address?” 

“Yes,”  said  the  old  man  to  his  young  visitor,  “I  am  proud 
of  my  girls,  and  would  like  to  see  them  comfortably  married, 
and  as  I have  made  a little  money  they  will  not  go  penniless 
to  their  husbands.  There  is  Mary,  twenty-five  years  old,  and 
a really  good  girl.  I shall  give  her  $1,000  when  she  marries. 
Then  comes  Bet,  who  won’t  see  thirty-five  again,  and  I shall 
give  her  $3,000,  and  the  man  who  takes  Eliza,  who  is  forty, 
will  have  $5,000  with  her.” 

The  young  man  reflected  for  a moment  and  then  inquired: 
“You  haven’t  one  about  fifty,  have  you?” 

FOUNTAIN  PENS 

“Fust  time  you’ve  ever  milked  a cow,  is  it?”  said  Uncle  Josh 
to  his  visiting  nephew.  “Wal,  y’  do  it  a durn  sight  better’n 
most  city  fellers  do.” 

“It  seems  to  come  natural  somehow,”  said  the  youth,  flush- 
ing with  pleasure.  “I’ve  had  a good  deal  of  practice  with  a 
fountain  pen.” 

“Percy”  asks  if  we  know  anything  which  will  change  the 
color  of  the  fingers  when  they  have  become  yellow  from  cig- 
arette smoking. 

He  might  try  using  one  of  the  inferior  makes  of  fountain 
pens. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


201 


FOURTH  OF  JULY 

“You  are  in  favor  of  a safe  and  sane  Fourth  of  July?” 

“Yes,”  replied  Mr.  Growcher.  “We  ought  to  have  that  kind 
of  a day  at  least  once  a year.” 

One  Fourth  of  July  night  in  London,  the  Empire  Music  Hall 
advertised  special  attractions  to  American  visitors.  All  over 
the  auditorium  the  Union  Jack  and  Stars  and  Stripes  enfolded 
one  another,  and  at  the  interludes  were  heard  “Yankee  Doodle” 
and  “Hail  Columbia,”  while  a quartette  sang  “Down  upon  the 
Swanee  River.”  It  was  an  occasion  to  swell  the  heart  of  an 
exiled  patriot.  Finally  came  the  turn  of  the  Human  Encyclo- 
pedia, who  advanced  to  the  front  of  the  stage  and  announced 
himself  ready  to  answer,  sight  unseen,  all  questions  the  audi- 
ence might  propound.  A volley  of  queries  was  fired  at  him, 
and  the  Encyclopedia  breathlessly  told  the  distance  of  the 
earth  from  Mars,  the  number  of  bones  in  the  human  skeleton, 
of  square  miles  in  the  British  Empire,  and  other  equally  im- 
portant facts.  There  was  a brief  pause,  in  which  an  Amer- 
ican stood  up. 

“What  great  event  took  place  July  4,  1776?”  he  propounded 
in  a loud  glad  voice. 

The  Human  Encyclopedia  glared  at  him.  “Th’  hincident 
you  speak  of,  sir,  was  a hinfamous  houtrage !” 

FREAKS 


See  Husbands. 

FREE  THOUGHT 

Tommy — “Pop,  what  is  a freethinker?” 

Pop — “A  freethinker,  my  son,  is  any  man  who  isn’t  mar- 
ried.” 

FRENCH  LANGUAGE 

“I  understand  you  speak  French  like  a native.” 

“No,”  replied  the  student;  “Fve  got  the  grammar  and  the 
accent  down  pretty  fine.  But  it’s  hard  to  learn  the  gestures.” 


202 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


In  Paris  last  summer  a southern  girl  was  heard  to  drawl 
between  the  acts  of  “Chantecler” : “I  think  it’s  mo’  fun  when 
you  don’t  understand  French.  It  sounds  mo’  like  chickens!” 

—Life. 


FRESHMEN 

See  College  Students. 


FRIENDS 

The  Lord  gives  our  relatives, 

Thank  God  we  can  choose  our  friends. 


“Father” 

“Well,  what  is  it?” 

“It  says  here,  ‘A  man  is  known  by  the  company  he  keeps.’ 
Is  that  so,  Father?” 

“Yes,  yes,  yes.” 

“Well,  Father,  if  a good  man  keeps  company  with  a bad 
man,  is  the  good  man  bad  because  he  keeps  company  with  the 
bad  man,  and  is  the  bad  man  good  because  he  keeps  company 
with  the  good  man?” — Punch. 

Here’s  champagne  to  our  real  friends. 

And  real  pain  to  our  sham  friends. 

It’s  better  to  make  friends  fast 
Than  to  make  fast  friends. 

Some  friends  are  a habit — some  a luxury. 

A friend  is  one  who  overlooks  your  virtues  and  appreciates 
your  faults. 


FRIENDS,  SOCIETY  OF 

A visitor  to  Philadelphia,  unfamiliar  with  the  garb  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  was  much  interested  in  two  demure  and 
placid  Quakeresses  who  took  seats  directly  behind  her  in  the 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


203 


Broad  Street  Station.  After  a few  minutes*  silence  she  was 
somewhat  startled  to  hear  a gentle  voice  inquire : “Sister  Kate, 
will  thee  go  to  the  counter  and  have  a milk  punch  on  me?” 
— Carolina  Lockhart. 


FRIENDSHIP 

Friendly  may  we  part  and  quickly  meet  again. 

There’s  fellowship 
In  every  sip 
Of  friendship’s  brew. 

May  we  all  travel  through  the  world  and  sow  it  thick  with 
friendship. 

Here’s  to  the  four  hinges  of  Friendship — 

.Swearing,  Lying,  Stealing  and  Drinking. 

When  you  swear,  swear  by  your  country; 

When  you  lie,  lie  for  a pretty  woman, 

When  you  steal,  steal  away  from  bad  company 
And  when  you  drink,  drink  with  me. 

The  trouble  with  having  friends  is  the  upkeep. 

“Brown  volunteered  to  lend  me  money.” 

“Did  you  take  it?” 

“No.  That  sort  of  friendship  is  too  good  to  lose.” 

“I  let  my  house  furnished,  and  they’ve  had  measles  there. 
Of  course  we’ve  had  the  place  disinfected;  so  I suppose  it’s 
quite  safe.  What  do  you  think?” 

“I  fancy  it  would  be  all  right,  dear;  but  I think,  perhaps,  it 
would  be  safer  to  lend  it  to  a friend  first.” — Punch. 

“Hoo  is  it,  Jeemes,  that  you  mak’  sic  an  enairmous  profit 
aff  yer  potatoes?  Yer  price  is  lower  than  ony  ither  in  the  toon 
and  ye  mak’  extra  reductions  for  yer  freends.” 

“Weel,  ye  see,  I knock  aff  twa  shillin’s  a ton  beacuse  a cus- 
tomer is  a f reend  o’  mine,  an’  then  I jist  tak’  twa  hundert- 
weight  aff  the  ton  because  I’m  a freend  o’  his.” — Punch. 


204 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


The  conductor  of  a western  freight  train  saw  a tramp  steal- 
ing a ride  on  one  of  the  forward  cars.  He  told  the  brake- 
man  in  the  caboose  to  go  up  and  put  the  man  off  at  the  next 
stop.  When  the  brakeman  approached  the  tramp,  the  latter 
waved  a big  revolver  and  told  him  to  keep  away. 

“Did  you  get  rid  of  him?,,  the  conductor  asked  the  brake- 
man,  when  the  train  was  under  motion  again. 

“I  hadn’t  the  heart,”  was  the  reply.  “He  turned  out  to  be 
an  old  school  friend  of  mine.” 

“I’ll  take  care  of  him,”  said  the  conductor,  as  he  started 
over  the  tops  of  the  cars. 

After  the  train  had  made  another  stop  and  gone  on,  the 
brakeman  came  into  the  caboose  and  said  to  the  conductor: 

“Well,  is  he  off?” 

“No;  he  turned  out  to  be  an  old  school  friend  of  mine, 
too.” 


If  a man  does  not  make  new  acquaintances,  as  he  advances 
through  life,  he  will  soon  find  himself  left  alone.  A man,  Sir, 
should  keep  his  friendship  in  constant  repair. 

— Samuel  Johnson. 

They  say,  and  I am  glad  they  say, 

It  is  so ; and  it  may  be  so ; 

It  may  be  just  the  other  way, 

I cannot  tell,  but  this  I know — 

From  quiet  homes  and  first  beginnings 
Out  to  the  undiscovered  ends 
There’s  nothing  worth  the  wear  of  winning 
Save  laughter  and  the  love  of  friends. 

— Hilaire  Belloc. 


FUN 

Fun  is  like  life  insurance,  th’  older  you  git  th’  more  it  costs. 
— Abe  Martin. 


See  also  Amusements. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


205 


FUNERALS 

There  was  an  old  man  in  a hearse, 

Who  murmured,  “This  might  have  been  worse; 

Of  course  the  expense 
Is  simply  immense, 

But  it  doesn’t  come  out  of  my  purse.” 

FURNITURE 

Guest — “That’s  a beautiful  rug.  May  I ask  how  much  it 
cost  you?” 

Host — “Five  hundred  dollars.  A hundred  and  fifty  for  it 
and  the  rest  for  furniture  to  match.” 

FUTURE  LIFE 

A certain  young  man’s  friends  thought  he  was  dead,  but 
he  was  only  in  a state  of  coma.  When,  in  ample  time  to  avoid 
being  buried,  he  showed  signs  of  life,  he  was  asked  how  it 
seemed  to  be  dead. 

“Dead?”  he  exclaimed.  “I  wasn’t  dead.  I knew  all  that 
was  going  on.  And  I knew  I wasn’t  dead,  too,  because  my  feet 
were  cold  and  I was  hungry.” 

“But  how  did  that  fact  make  you  think  you  were  still  alive?” 
asked  one  of  the  curious. 

“Well,  this  way;  I knew  that  if  I were  in  heaven  I wouldn’t 
be  hungry.  And  if  I was  in  the  other  place  my  feet  wouldn’t 
be  cold.” 

Father  (impressively) — “Suppose  I should  be  taken  away 
suddenly,  what  would  become  of  you,  my  boy?” 

Irreverent  Son — I’d  stay  here.  The  question  is,  What 
would  become  of  you?” 

“Look  here,  now,  Harold,”  said  a father  to  his  little  son,  who 
was  naughty,  “if  you  don’t  say  your  prayers  you  won’t  go  to 
Heaven.” 

“I  don’t  want  to  go  to  Heaven,”  sobbed  the  boy;  “I  want  to 
go  with  you  and  mother.” 


206 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


On  a voyage  across  the  ocean  an  Irishman  died  and  was 
about  to  be  buried  at  sea.  His  friend  Mike  was  the  chief 
mourner  at  the  buriel  service,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  those 
in  charge  wrapped  the  body  in  canvas  preparatory  to  dropping 
it  overboard.  It  is  customary  to  place  heavy  shot  with  a body 
to  insure  its  immediate  sinking,  but  in  this  instance,  nothing 
else  being  available,  a large  lump  of  coal  was  substituted. 
Mike’s  cup  of  sorrow  overflowed  his  eyes,  and  he  tearfully  ex- 
claimed, 

“Oh,  Pat,  I knew  you’d  never  get  to  heaven,  but,  begorry, 
I didn’t  think  you’d  have  to  furnish  your  own  fuel.” 

An  Irishman  told  a man  that  he  had  fallen  so  low  in  this 
life  that  in  the  next  he  would  have  to  climb  up  hill  to  get 
into  hell. 

When  P.  T.  Barnum  was  at  the  head  of  his  “great  moral 
show,”  it  was  his  rule  to  send  complimentary  tickets  to  clergy- 
men, and  the  custom  is  continued  to  this  day.  Not  long  ago, 
after  the  Reverend  Doctor  Walker  succeeded  to  the  pastorate 
of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Hawks,  in  Hartford,  there  came  to 
the  parsonage,  addressed  to  Doctor  Hawks,  tickets  for  the  cir- 
cus, with  the  compliments  of  the  famous  showman.  Doctor 
Walker  studied  the  tickets  for  a moment,  and  then  remarked: 

“Doctor  Hawks  is  dead  and  Mr.  Barnum  is  dead;  evidently 
they  haven’t  met.” 

Archbishop  Ryan  once  attended  a dinner  given  him  by  the 
citizens  of  Philadelphia  and  a brilliant  company  of  men  was 
present.  Among  others  were  the  president  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Railroad;  ex- Attorney-General  MacVeagh,  counsel  for  the 
road,  and  other  prominent  railroad  men. 

Mr.  MacVeagh,  in  talking  to  the  guest  of  the  evening,  said: 
“Your  Grace,  among  others  you  see  here  a great  many  railroad 
men.  There  is  a peculiarity  of  railroad  men  that  even  on  so- 
cial occasions  you  will  find  that  they  always  take  their  lawyer 
with  them.  That  is  why  I am  here.  They  never  go  anywhere 
without  their  counsel.  Now  they  have  nearly  everything  that 
men  want,  but  I have  a suggestion  to  make  to  you  for  an  ex- 
change with  us.  We  can  give  free  passes  on  all  the  railroads 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


20  7 


of  the  country.  Now  if  you  would  only  give  us — say  a free 
pass  to  Paradise  by  way  of  exchange.” 

“Ah,  no,”  said  His  Grace,  with  a merry  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
“that  would  never  do.  I would  not  like  to  separate  them  from 
their  counsel.” 

GARDENING 

Th’  only  time  some  fellers  ever  dig  in  th’  gardens  is  just 
before  they  go  a fishin’. — Abe  Martin. 

“I  am  going  to  start  a garden,”  announced  Mr.  Subbubs. 
“A  few  months  from  now  I won’t  be  kicking  about  your 
prices.”  “No,”  said  the  grocer;  “you’ll  be  wondering  how  I can 
afford  to  sell  vegetables  so  cheap.” 


GAS  STOVES 

A Georgia  woman  who  moved  to  Philadelphia  found  she 
could  not  be  contented  without  the  colored  mammy  who  had 
been  her  servant  for  many  years.  She  sent  for  old  mammy, 
and  the  servant  arrived  in  due  season.  It  so  happened  that 
the  Georgia  woman  had  to  leave  town  the  very  day  mammy 
arrived.  Before  departing  she  had  just  time  to  explain  to 
mammy  the  modern  conveniences  with  which  her  apartment 
was  furnished.  The  gas  stove  was  the  contrivance  which  in- 
terested the  colored  woman  most.  After  the  mistress  of  the 
household  had  lighted  the  oven,  the  broiler,  and  the  other 
burners  and  felt  certain  the  old  servant  understood  its  opera- 
tions, the  mistress  hurried  for  her  train. 

She  was  absent  for  two  weeks  and  one  of  her  first  ques- 
tions to  mammy  was  how  she  had  worried  along. 

“De  fines’  ever,”  was  the  reply.  “And  dat  air  gas  stove — O 
my!  Why  do  you  know,  Miss  Flo’ence,  dat  fire  aint  gone  out 
yit.” 


GENEROSITY 

“This  is  a foine  country,  Bridget!”  exclaimed  Norah,  who 
had  but  recently  arrived  in  the  United  States.  “Sure,  it’s 


208 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


generous  everybody  is.  I asked  at  the  post-office  about  sindin' 
money  to  me  mither,  and  the  young  man  tells  me  I can  get 
a money  order  for  $10  for  io  cents.  Think  of  that  now!” 

At  one  of  these  reunions  of  the  Blue  and  the  Gray  so 
happily  common  of  late,  a northern  veteran,  who  had  lost  both 
arms  and  both  legs  in  the  service,  caused  himself  to  be  posted 
in  a conspicuous  place  to  receive  alms.  The  response  to  his 
appeal  was  generous  and  his  cup  rapidly  filled. 

Nobody  gave  him  more  than  a dime,  however,  except  a 
grizzled  warrior  of  the  lost  cause,  who  plumped  in  a dollar. 
And  not  content,  he  presently  came  that  way  again  and  plumped 
in  another  dollar. 

The  crippled  gratitude  did  not  quite  extinguish  his  curios- 
ity. “Why,”  he  inquired,  “do  you,  who  fought  on  the  other 
side,  give  me  so  much  more  than  any  of  those  who  were  my 
comrades  in  arms?” 

The  old  rebel  smiled  grimly.  “Because,”  he  replied,  “you're 
the  first  Yank  I ever  saw  trimmed  up  just  to  suit  me.” 

At  dinner  one  day,  it  was  noticed  that  a small  daughter 
of  the  minister  was  putting  aside  all  the  choice  pieces  of  chicken 
and  her  father  asked  her  why  she  did  that.  She  explained  that 
she  was  saving  them  for  her  dog.  Her  father  told  her  there 
were  plenty  of  bones  the  dog  could  have  so  she  consented  to 
eat  the  dainty  bits.  Later  she  collected  the  bones  and  took 
them  to  the  dog  saying,  “I  meant  to  give  a free  will  offering 
but  it  is  only  a collection.” 

A little  newsboy  with  a cigarette  in  his  mouth  entered  a 
notion  store  and  asked  for  a match. 

“We  only  sell  matches,”  said  the  storekeeper. 

“How  much  are  they?”  asked  the  future  citizen. 

“Penny  a box,”  was  the  answer. 

“Gimme  a box,”  said  the  boy. 

He  took  one  match,  lit  the  cigarette,  and  handed  the  box 
back  over  the  counter,  saying,  “Here,  take  it  and  put  it  on 
de  shelf,  and  when  anodder  sport  comes  and  asks  for  a match, 
give  him  one  on  me.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


209 


Little  Ralph  belonged  to  a family  of  five.  One  morning  he 
came  into  the  house  carrying  five  stones  which  he  brought 
to  his  mother,  saying: 

“Look,  mother,  here  are  tombstones  for  each  one  of  us.,, 

The  mother,  counting  them,  said: 

“Here  is  one  for  father,  dear!  Here  is  one  for  mother! 
Here  is  brother’s ! Here  is  the  baby’s ; but  there  is  none  for 
Delia,  the  maid.” 

Ralph  was  lost  in  thought  for  a moment,  then  cheerfully 
cried : 

“Oh,  well,  never  mind,  mother;  Delia  can  have  mine,  and 
I’ll  live!” 


She  was  making  the  usual  female  search  for  her  purse 
when  the  conductor  came  to  collect  the  fares. 

Her  companion  meditated  silently  for  a moment,  then,  ad- 
dressing the  other,  said : 

“Let  us  divide  this  Mabel ; you  fumble  and  I’ll  pay.” 


GENTLEMEN 

“Sadie,  what  is  a gentleman?” 

“Please,  ma’am,”  she  answered,  “a  gentleman’s  a man  you 
don’t  know  very  well.” 

Two  characters  in  Jeffery  Farnol’s  “Amateur  Gentleman” 
give  these  definitions  of  a gentleman: 

“A  gentleman  is  a fellow  who  goes  to  a university,  but 
doesn’t  have  to  learn  anything;  who  goes  out  into  the  world, 
but  doesn’t  have  to  work  at  anything;  and  who  has  never  been 
black-balled  at  any  of  the  clubs.” 

“A  gentleman  is  (I  take  it)  one  born  with  the  God-like 
capacity  to  think  and  feel  , for  others,  irrespective  of  their  rank 
or  condition.  . . . One  who  possesses  an  ideal  so  lofty,  a 
mind  so  delicate,  that  it  lifts  him  above  all  things  ignoble  and 
base,  yet  strengthens  his  hands  to  raise  those  who  are  fallen — 
no  matter  how  low.” 


210 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


GERMANS 

The  poet  Heine  and  Baron  James  Rothschild  were  close 
friends.  At  the  dinner  table  of  the  latter  the  financier  asked 
the  poet  why  he  was  so  silent,  when  usually  so  gay  and  full 
of  witty  remarks. 

“Quite  right, ” responded  Heine,  “but  to-night  I have  ex- 
changed views  with  my  German  friends  and  my  head  is  fear- 
fully empty.” 


GHOSTS 

“I  confess  that  the  subject  of  psychical  research  makes  no 
great  appeal  to  me,”  Sir  William  Henry  Perkin,  the  inventor 
of  coal-tar  dyes,  told  some  friends  in  New  York  recently. 
“Personally,  in  the  course  of  a fairly  long  career,  I have  heard 
at  first  hand  but  one  ghost  story.  Its  hero  was  a man  whom 
I may  as  well  call  Snooks. 

“Snooks,  visiting  at  a country  house,  was  put  in  the  haunted 
chamber  for  the  night.  He  said  that  he  did  not  feel  the 
slightest  uneasiness,  but  nevertheless,  just  as  a matter  of  pre- 
caution, he  took  to  bed  with  him  a revolver  of  the  latest  Ameri- 
can pattern. 

“He  slept  peacefully  enough  until  the  clock  struck  two, 
when  he  awoke  with  an  unpleasant  feeling  of  oppression.  He 
raised  his  head  and  peered  about  him.  The  room  was  wanly 
illumined  by  the  full  moon,  and  in  that  weird,  bluish  light  he 
thought  he  discerned  a small,  white  hand  clasping  the  rail  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed. 

“‘Who’s  there?’  he  asked  tremulously. 

“There  was  no  reply.  The  small  white  hand  did  not  move. 

“‘Who’s  there?’  he  repeated.  ‘Answer  me  or  I’ll  shoot.’ 

“Again  there  was  no  reply. 

“Snooks  cautiously  raised  himself,  took  careful  aim  and 
fired. 

“From  that  night  on  he’s  limped.  Shot  off  two  of  his  own 
toes.” 


GIFTS 


When  Lawrence  Barrett’s  daughter  was  married  Stuart 
Robson  sent  a check  for  $5000  to  the  bridegroom.  The  come- 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


211 

dian’s  daughter,  Felicia  Robson,  who  attended  the  wedding  con- 
veyed the  gift. 

“Felicia,”  said  her  father  upon  her  return,  “did  you  give 
him  the  check?” 

“Yes,  Father,”  answered  the  daughter. 

“What  did  he  say?”  asked  Robson. 

“He  didn’t  say  anything,”  replied  Miss  Felicia,  “but  he  shed 
tears.” 

“How  long  did  he  cry?” 

“Why  Father,  I didn’t  time  him.  I should  say,  however, 
that  he  wept  fully  a minute.” 

“Fully  a minute,”  mused  Robson.  “Why,  Daughter,  I cried 
.an  hour  after  I signed  it.” 


A church  house  in  a certain  rural  district  was  sadly  in  need 
of  repairs.  The  official  board  had  called  a meeting  of  the 
parishioners  to  see  what  could  be  done  toward  raising  the 
necessary  funds.  One  of  the  wealthiest  and  stingiest  of  the 
adherents  of  that  church  arose  and  said  that  he  would  give 
five  dollars,  and  sat  down. 

Just  then  a bit  of  plastering  fell  from  the  ceiling  and  hit 
him  squarely  upon  the  head.  Whereupon  he  jumped  up,  looked 
confused  and  said:  “I — er — I meant  I’ll  give  fifty  dollars!”  then 
again  resumed  his  seat. 

After  a brief  silence  a voice  was  heard  to  say:  “O  Lord, 
hit  ’im  again !” 

He  gives  twice  who  gives  quickly  because  the  collectors 
come  around  later  on  and  hit  him  for  another  subscription. — 
Puck. 

“Presents,”  I often  say,  “endear  Absents.” — Charles  Lamb. 

In  giving,  a man  receives  more  than  he  gives,  and  the 
more  is  in  proportion  to  the  worth  of  the  thing  given. — George 
MacDonald. 


See  also  Christmas  gifts. 


212 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


GLUTTONY 

A clergyman  was  quite  ill  as  a result  of  eating  many  pieces 
of  mince  pie. 

A brother  minister  visited  him  and  asked  him  if  he  was 
afraid  to  die. 

“No,”  the  sick  man  replied,  “But  I should  be  ashamed  to 
die  from  eating  too  much.” 

There  was  a young  person  named  Ned, 

Who  dined  before  going  to  bed, 

On  lobster  and  ham 
And  salad  and  jam, 

And  when  he  awoke  he  was  dead. 

GOLF 

Two  Scotchmen  met  and  exchanged  the  small  talk  appropri- 
ate to  the  hour.  As  they  were  parting  to  go  supperward  Sandy 
said  to  Jock: 

“Jock,  mon,  I'll  go  ye  a roond  on  the  links  in  the  morrn.’” 

“The  morm’?”  Jock  repeated. 

“Aye,  mon,  the  morrn’,”  said  Sandy.  “I'll  go  ye  a roond  on 
the  links  in  the  morrn.’  ” 

“Aye,  weel,”  said  Jock,  “I’ll  go  ye.  But  I had  intended  to 
get  marriet  in  the  morrn’.” 

Golfer  (unsteadied  by  Christmas  luncheon)  to  Opponent — 
“Sir,  I wish  you  clearly  to  understand  that  I resent  your  un- 
warrant— your  interference  with  my  game,  sir!  Tilt  the  green 
once  more,  sir,  and  I chuck  the  match.” 

Doctor  William  S.  Rainsford  is  an  inveterate  golf  player. 
When  he  was  rector  of  St.  George’s  Church,  in  New  York 
City,  he  was  badly  beaten  on  the  links  by  one  of  his  vestrymen. 
To  console  the  clergyman  the  vestryman  ventured  to  say: 
“Never  mind,  Doctor,  you’ll  get  satisfaction  some  day  when  I 
pass  away.  Then  you’ll  read  the  burial  service  over  me.” 

“I  don’t  see  any  satisfaction  in  that,”  answered  the  clergy- 
man, “for  you’ll  still  be  in  the  hole.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


213 


Sunday  School  Teacher — “Willie,  do  you  know  what  be- 
comes of  boys  who  use  bad  language  when  they're  playing 
marbles?" 

Willie — “Yes,  miss.  They  grow  up  and  play  golf." 

The  game  of  golf,  as  every  humorist  knows,  is  conducive  to 
profanity.  It  is  also  a terrible  strain  on  veracity,  every  man 
being  his  own  umpire. 

Four  men  were  playing  golf  on  a course  where  the  hazard 
on  the  ninth  hole  was  a deep  ravine. 

They  drove  off.  Three  went  into  the  ravine  and  one  man- 
aged to  get  his  ball  over.  The  three  who  had  dropped  into 
the  ravine  walked  up  to  have  a look.  Two  of  them  decided 
not  to  try  to  play  their  balls  out  and  gave  up  the  hole.  The 
third  said  he  would  go  down  and  play  out  his  ball.  He  dis- 
appeared into  the  deep  crevasse.  Pjtes'ently  his  ball  came  bob- 
bing out  and  after  a time  he  climbed  up. 

“How  many  strokes?"  asked  one  of  his  opponents. 

“Three." 

“But  I heard  six." 

“Three  of  them  were  echoes !” 

When  Mark  Twain  came  to  Washington  to  try  to  get  a 
decent  copyright  law  passed,  a representative  took  him  out  to 
Chevy  Chase. 

Mark  Twain  refused  to  play  golf  himself,  but  he  consented 
to  walk  over  the  course  and  watch  the  representative's  strokes. 
The  representative  was  rather  a duffer.  Teeing  off,  he  sent 
clouds  of  earth  flying  in  all  directions.  Then,  to  hide  his  con- 
fusion he  said  to  his  guest:  “What  do  you  think  of  our  links 
here,  Mr.  Clemens?" 

“Best  I ever  tasted,"  said  Mark  Twain,  as  he  wiped  the 
dirt  from  his  lips  with  his  handkerchief. 

GOOD  FELLOWSHIP 

A glass  is  good,  a lass  is  good, 

And  a pipe  to  smoke  in  cold  weather, 

The  world  is  good  and  the  people  are  good, 

And  we're  all  good  fellows  together. 


214 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


May  good  humor  preside  when  good  fellows  meet, 

And  reason  prescribe  when  ’tis  time  to  retreat. 

Here’s  to  us  that  are  here,  to  you  that  are  there,  and  the 
rest  of  us  everywhere. 

Here’s  to  all  the  world, — 

For  fear  some  darn  fool  may  take  offence. 

GOSSIP 

A gossip  is  a person  who  syndicates  his  conversation. — Dick 

Dickinson. 

Gossips  are  the  spies  of  life. 

“However  did  you  reconcile  Adele  and  Mary?” 

“I  gave  them  a choice  bit  of  gossip  and  asked  them  not  to 
repeat  it  to  each  other.” 

The  seven-year-old  daughter  of  a prominent  suburban  resi- 
dent is,  the  neighbors  say,  a precocious  youngster;  at  all  events, 
she  knows  the  ways  of  the  world. 

Her  mother  had  occasion  to  punish  her  one  day  last  week 
for  a particularly  mischievous  prank,  and  after  she  had  talked 
it  over  very  solemnly  sent  the  little  girl  up  to  her  room. 

An  hour  later  the  mother  went  upstairs.  The  child  was 
sitting  complacently  on  the  window  seat,  looking  out  at  the 
other  children. 

“Well,  little  girl,”  the  mother  began,  “did  you  tell  God  all 
about  how  naughty  you’d  been?” 

The  youngster  shook  her  head,  emphatically.  “Guess  I 
didn’t,”  she  gurgled;  “why,  it’d  be  all  over  heaven  in  no  time.” 

Get  a gossip  wound  up  and  she  will  run  somebody  down. 

— Life. 

“Papa,  mamma  says  that  one-half  the  world  doesn’t  know 
how  the  other  half  lives.” 

“Well,  she  shouldn’t  blame  herself,  dear,  it  isn’t  her  fault.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


215 


It  is  only  national  history  that  “repeats  itself.”  Your  pri- 
vate history  is  repeated  by  the  neighbors. 


“You’re  a terrible  scandal-monger,  Linkum,”  said  Jorrocks. 

“Why  in  thunder  don’t  you  make  it  a rule  to  tell  only  half 
what  you  hear?” 

“That’s  what  I do  do,”  said  Linkum.  “Only  I tell  the  spicy 
half.” 

“What,”  asked  the  Sunday-school  teacher,  “is  meant  by 
bearing  false  witness  against  one’s  neighbor?” 

“It’s  telling  falsehoods  about  them,”  said  the  one  small  maid. 

“Partly  right  and  partly  wrong,”  said  the  teacher. 

“I  know,”  said  another  little  girl,  holding  her  hand  high 
in  the  air.  “It’s  when  nobody  did  anything  and  somebody  went 
and  told  about  it.” — H.  R.  Bennett. 


Maud — “That  story  you  told  about  Alice  isn’t  worth  repeat- 
ing.” 

Kate — “It’s  young  yet;  give  it  time.” 


Son — “Why  do  people  say  ‘Dame  Gossip’?” 

Father — “Because  they  are  too  polite  to  leave  off  the  ‘e.’  ” 


I cannot  tell  how  the  truth  may  be; 

I say  the  tale  as  ’twas  said  to  me. 

Never  tell  evil  of  a man,  if  you  do  not  know  it  for  a cer- 
tainty, and  if  you  do  know  it  for  a certainty,  then  ask  yourself, 
“Why  should  I tell  it?” — Lavater. 


GOVERNMENT  OWNERSHIP 

“Don’t  you  think  the  coal-mines  ought  to  be  controlled  by 
the  government?” 

“I  might  if  I didn’t  know  who  controlled  the  government.” 
. — Life. 


216 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


GOVERNORS 

The  governor  of  a western  state  was  dining  with  the  family 
of  a Representative  in  Congress  from  that  state,  and  opposite 
him  at  table  sat  the  little  girl  of  the  family,  aged  ten.  She 
gazed  at  the  Governor  solemnly  throughout  the  repast. 

Finally  the  youngster  asked,  “Are  you  really  and  truly  a 
governor?” 

“Yes,”  replied  the  great  man  laughingly;  “I  really  and  truly 

ff 

am. 

“I’ve  always  wanted  to  see  a governor,”  continued  the  child, 
“for  Fve  heard  Daddy  speak  of  ’em.” 

“Well,”  rejoined  the  Governor,  “now  that  you  have  seen 
one,  are  you  satisfied?” 

“No,  sir,”  answered  the  youngster,  without  the  slightest  im- 
pertinence, but  with  an  air  of  great  conviction,  “no,  sir;  I’m 
disappointed.” 

GRAFT 

“What  is  meant  by  graft?”  said  the  inquiring  foreigner. 

“Graft,”  said  the  resident  of  a great  city,  “is  a system  which 
ultimately  results  in  compelling  a large  portion  of  the  popula- 
tion to  apologize  constantly  for  not  having  money,  and  the  re- 
mainder to  explain  how  they  got  it.” 

Lady — “I  guess  you’re  gettin’  a good  thing  out  o’  tending  the 
rich  Smith  boy,  ain’t  ye,  doctor?” 

Doctor — “Well,  yes;  I get  a pretty  good  fee.  Why?” 

Lady — “Well,  I hope  you  won’t  forget  that  my  Willie  threw 
the  brick  that  hit  ’im !” 

Every  man  has  his  price,  but  some  hold  bargain  sales. 

— Satire. 

The  Democrats  had  a clear  working  majority  in  , Il- 

linois, for  a number  of  years.  But  when  the  Fifteenth  Amend- 
ment went  into  effect  it  enfranchised  so  many  of  the  “culled 
bredren”  as  to  make  it  apparent  to  the  party  leaders  that  un- 
less a good  many  black  votes  could  be  bought  up,  the  Re- 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


21 7 


publicans  would  carry  the  city  election.  Accordingly  advances 

were  made  to  the  Rev.  Brother  , whose  influence  it  was 

thought  desirable  to  secure,  inasmuch  as  he  was  certain  to  con- 
trol the  votes  of  his  entire  church. 

He  was  found  “open  to  conviction/’  and  arrangements  pro- 
gressed satisfactorily  until  it  was  asked  how  much  money 
would  be  necessary  to  secure  his  vote  and  influence. 

With  an  air  of  offended  dignity,  Brother  replied: 

“Now,  gemmen,  as  a regular  awdained  minister  ob  de  Bap- 
tist Church  dis  ting  has  gone  jes  as  far  as  my  conscience  will 
’low;  but,  gemmen,  my  son  will  call  round  to  see  you  in  de 
mornin\” 

A well-known  New  York  contractor  went  into  the  tailor’s, 
donned  his  new  suit,  and  left  his  old  one  for  repairs.  Then 
he  sought  a cafe  and  refreshed  the  inner  man;  but  as  he 
reached  in  his  pocket  for  the  money  to  settle  his  check,  he 
realized  that  he  had  neglected  to  transfer  both  purse  and  watch 
when  he  left  his  suit.  As  he  hesitated,  somewhat  embarrassed, 
he  saw  a bill  on  the  floor  at  his  feet.  Seizing  it  thankfully, 
he  stepped  to  the  cashier’s  desk  and  presented  both  check  and 
money. 

“That  was  a two  dollar  bill,”  he  explained  when  he  counted 
his  change. 

“I  know  it,”  said  the  cashier,  with  a toss  of  her  blond  head. 
“I’m  dividing  with  you.  I saw  it  first.” 

GRATITUDE 

After  O’Connell  had  obtained  the  acquittal  of  a horse-steal- 
er, the  thief,  in  the  ecstasy  of  his  gratitude,  cried  out,  “Och, 
counsellor,  I’ve  no  way  here  to  thank  your  honor;  but  I wish’t 
I saw  you  knocked  down  in  me  own  parish — wouldn’t  I bring 
a faction  to  the  rescue?” 

Some  people  are  never  satisfied.  For  example,  the  prisoner 
who  complained  of  the  literature  that  the  prison  angel  gave 
him  to  read. 

“Nutt’n  but  continued  stories,”  he  grumbled.  “An  I’m  to 
be  hung  next  Tuesday.” 


218 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


It  was  a very  hot  day  and  a picnic  had  been  arranged  by 
the  United  Society  of  Lady  Vegetarians. 

They  were  comfortably  seated,  and  waiting  for  the  kettle 
to  boil,  when,  horror  of  horrors!  a savage  bull  appeared  on 
the  scene. 

Immediately  a wild  rush  was  made  for  safety,  while  the 
raging  creature  pounded  after  one  lady  who,  unfortunately, 
had  a red  parasol.  By  great  good  fortune  she  nipped  over  the 
stile  before  it  could  reach  her.  Then,  regaining  her  breath,  she 
turned  round. 

“Oh,  you  ungrateful  creature !”  she  exclaimed.  “Here  have 
I been  a vegetarian  all  my  life.  There’s  gratitude  for  you!” 

Miss  Passay — “You  have  saved  my  life,  young  man.  How 
can  I repay  you?  How  can  I show  my  gratitude?  Are  you 
married?” 

Young  Man — “Yes;  come  and  be  a cook  for  us.” 

GREAT  BRITAIN 

One  of  the  stories  told  by  Mr.  Spencer  Leigh  Hughes  in 
his  speech  in  the  House  of  Commons  one  night  tickled  every- 
body. It  is  the  story  of  the  small  boy  who  was  watching  the 
Speaker’s  procession  as  it  wended  its  way  through  the  lobby. 
First  came  the  Speaker,  and  then  the  chaplain,  and  next  the 
other  officers. 

“Who,  father,  is  that  gentleman?”  said  the  small  boy,  point- 
ing to  the  chaplain. 

“That,  my  son,”  said  the  father,  “is  the  chaplain  of  the 
House.” 

“Does  he  pray  for  the  members?”  asked  the  small  boy. 

The  father  thought  a minute  and  then  said:  “No,  my  son; 
when  he  goes  into  the  House  he  looks  around  and  sees  the 
members  sitting  there  and  then  he  prays  for  the  country.” 

— Cardiff  Mail. 

There  is  a lad  in  Boston,  the  son  of  a well-known  writer 
of  history,  who  has  evidently  profited  by  such  observations  as 
he  may  have  overheard  his  father  utter  touching  certain  phases 
of  British  empire-building.  At  any  rate  the  boy  showed  a 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


219 


shrewd  notion  of  the  opinion  not  infrequently  expressed  in  re- 
gard to  the  righteousness  of  “British  occupation.”  It  was  he 
who  handed  in  the  following  essay  on  the  making  of  a Brit- 
ish colony: 

“Africa  is  a British  colony.  I will  tell  you  how  England 
does  it.  First  she  gets  a missionary;  when  the  missionary 
has  found  a specially  beautiful  and  fertile  tract  of  country,  he 
gets  all  his  people  round  him  and  says : ‘Let  us  pray/  and 
when  all  the  eyes  are  shut,  up  goes  the  British  flag.” 

GRIEF 

Jim,  who  worked  in  a garage,  had  just  declined  Mr.  Smith’s 
invitation  to  ride  in  his  new  car. 

“What’s  the  matter,  Jim?”  asked  Mr.  Smith.  “Are  you 
sick?” 

“No,  sah,”  he  replied.  “Tain’t  that — I done  los’  $5,  sah,  an* 
I jes’  nacherly  got  tuh  sit  an’  grieve.” 

GUARANTEES 

Traveler  (on  an  English  train) — “Shall  I have  time  to  get 
a drink?” 

Guard — “Yes,  sir.” 

Traveler — “Can  you  give  me  a guarantee  that  the  train 
won’t  start?” 

Guard — “Yes,  Fll  take  one  with  you !” 

GUESTS 

“Look  here,  Dinah,”  said  Binks,  as  he  opened  a questionable 
egg  at  breakfast,  “is  this  the  freshest  egg  you  can  find?” 

“Naw,  suh,”  replied  Dinah.  “We  done  got  a haff  dozen  laid 
diss  mornin’,  suh,  but  de  bishop’s  cornin’  down  hyar  in  August, 
suh,  and  we’s  savin’  all  de  fresh  aigs  for  him,  suh.” 

“Here’s  a health  to  thee  and  thine 
From  the  hearts  of  me  and  mine; 

And  when  thee  and  thine 
Come  to  see  me  and  mine, 


220 


lOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


May  me  and  mine  make  thee  and  thine 
As  welcome  as  thee  and  thine 
Have  ever  made  me  and  mine.” 

HABIT 

Among  the  new  class  which  came  to  the  second-grade  teach- 
er, a young  timid  girl,  was  one  Tommy,  who  for  naughty  deeds 
had  been  many  times  spanked  by  his  first-grade  teacher.  “Send 
him  to  me  any  time  when  you  want  him  spanked,”  suggested 
the  latter;  “I  can  manage  him.” 

One  morning,  about  a week  after  this  conversation,  Tommy 
appeared  at  the  first-grade  teacher’s  door.  She  dropped  her 
work,  seized  him  by  the  arm,  dragged  him  to  the  dressing-room, 
turned  him  over  her  knee  and  did  her  duty. 

When  she  had  finished  she  said:  “Well,  Tommy,  what  have 
you  to  say?” 

“Please,  Miss,  my  teacher  wants  the  scissors.” 

In  reward  of  faithful  political  service  an  ambitious  saloon 
keeper  was  appointed  police  magistrate. 

“What’s  the  charge  ag’in  this  man?”  he  inquired  when  the 
first  case  was  called. 

“Drunk,  yer  honor,”  said  the  policeman. 

The  newly  made  magistrate  frowned  upon  the  trembling  de- 
fendant. 

“Guilty,  or  not  guilty?”  he  demanded. 

“Sure,  sir,”  faltered  the  accused,  “I  never  drink  a drop.” 

“Have  a cigar,  then,”  urged  his  honor  persuasively,  as  he 
absently  polished  the  top  of  the  judicial  desk  with  his  pocket 
handkerchief. 


“ We  had  a fine  sunrise  this  morning,”  said  one  New  Yorker 
to  another.  “Did  you  see  it?” 

“Sunrise?”  said  the  second  man.  “Why,  I’m  always  in  bed 
before  sunrise.” 

A traveling  man  who  was  a cigarette  smoker  reached  town 
on  an  early  train.  He  wanted  a smoke,  but  none  of  the  stores 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


22 1 


were  open.  Near  the  station  he  saw  a newsboy  smoking,  and 
approached  him  with : 

“Say,  son,  got  another  cigarette  ?” 

“No,  sir,”  said  the  boy,  “but  I’ve  got  the  makings.” 

“All  right,”  the  traveling  man  said.  “But  I can’t  roll  ’em 
very  well.  Will  you  fix  one  for  me?” 

The  boy  did. 

“Don’t  believe  I’ve  got  a match,”  said  the  man,  after  a 
search  through  his  pockets. 

The  boy  handed  him  a match.  “Say,  Captain,”  he  said  “you 
ain’t  got  anything  but  the  habit,  have  you?” 


Habit  with  him  was  all  the  test  of  truth; 

“It  must  be  right:  I’ve  done  it  from  my  youth.” 

— Crabbe. 


HADES 


See  Future  life. 


HAPPINESS 

Lord  Tankerville,  in  New  York,  said  of  the  international 
school  question : 

“The  subject  of  the  American  versus  the  English  school  has 
been  too  much  discussed.  The  good  got  from  a school  depends, 
after  all,  on  the  schoolboy  chiefly,  and  I’m  afraid  the  average 
schoolboy  is  well  reflected  in  that  classic  schoolboy  letter  home 
which  said : 

“‘Dear  parents — We  are  having  a good  time  now  at  school. 
George  Jones  broke  his  leg  coasting  and  is  in  bed.  We  went 
skating  and  the  ice  broke  and  all  got  wet.  Willie  Brown  was 
drowned.  Most  of  the  boys  here  are  down  with  influenza.  The 
gardener  fell  into  our  cave  and  broke  his  rib,  but  he  can  work 
a little.  The  aviator  man  at  the  race  course  kicked  us  be- 
cause we  threw  sand  in  his  motor,  and  we  are  all  black  and 
blue.  I broke  my  front  tooth  playing  football.  We  are  very 
happy.’  ” 


222 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Mankind  are  always  happier  for  having  been  happy;  so  that 
if  you  make  them  happy  now,  you  make  them  happy  twenty 
years  hence  by  the  memory  of  it. — Sydney  Smith. 

HARNESSING 

The  story  is  told  of  two  Trenton  men  who  hired  a horse 
and  trap  for  a little  outing  not  long  ago.  Upon  reaching  their 
destination,  the  horse  was  unharnessed  and  permitted  peace- 
fully to  graze  while  the  men  fished  for  an  hour  or  two. 

When  they  were  ready  to  go  home,  a difficulty  at  once  pre- 
sented itself,  inasmuch  as  neither  of  the  Trentonians  knew  how 
to  reharness  the  horse.  Every  effort  in  this  direction  met  with 
dire  failure,  and  the  worst  problem  was  properly  to  adjust  the 
bit.  The  horse  himself  seemed  to  resent  the  idea  of  going  into 
harness  again. 

Finally  one  of  the  friends,  in  great  disgust,  sat  down  in  the 
road.  “There’s  only  one  thing  we  can  do,  Bill,”  said  he. 

“What’s  that?”  asked  Bill. 

“Wait  for  the  foolish  beast  to  yawn!” 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 

“Well,  I’ll  tell  you  this,”  said  the  college  man,  “Wellesley 
is  a match  factory.” 

“That’s  quite  true,”  assented  the  girl.  “At  Wellesley  we 
make  the  heads,  but  we  get  the  sticks  from  Harvard.” — C. 
Stratton. 

HASH 

“George,”  said  the  Titian-haired  school  marm,  “is  there  any 
connecting  link  between  the  animal  kingdom  and  the  vegetable 
kingdom?” 

“Yeth,  ma’am,”  answered  George  promptly.  “Hash.” 

HASTE 

The  ferry-dock  was  crowded  with  weary  home-goers  when 
through  the  crowd  rushed  a man — hot,  excited,  laden  to  the 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


223 


chin  with  bundles  of  every  shape  and  size.  He  sprinted  down 
the  pier,  his  eyes  fixed  on  a ferryboat  only  two  or  three  feet 
out  from  the  pier.  He  paused  but  an  instant  on  the  string- 
piece,  and  then,  cheered  on  by  the  amused  crowd,  he  made  a 
flying  leap  across  the  intervening  stretch  of  water  and  landed 
safely  on  the  deck.  A fat  man  happened  to  be  standing  on  the 
exact  spot  on  which  he  struck,  and  they  both  went  down  with 
a resounding  crash.  When  the  arriving  man  had  somewhat 
recovered  his  breath  he  apologized  to  the  fat  man.  “I  hope  I 
didn’t  hurt  you,”  he  said.  “I  am  sorry.  But,  anyway  I caught 
the  boat!” 

“But  you  idiot,”  said  the  fat  man,  “the  boat  was  coming  in !” 


HEALTH  RESORTS 

“Where  ’ve  you  been,  Murray?” 

“To  a health  resort.  Finest  place  I ever  struck.  It  was 
simply  great.” 

“Then  why  did  you  come  away?” 

“Oh,  I got  sick  and  had  to  come  home.” 

“Are  you  going  back?” 

“You  bet.  Just  as  soon  as  I get  well  enough.” 

HEARING 

The  Ladies’  Aid  ladies  were  talking  about  a conversation 
they  had  overheard  before  the  meeting,  between  a man  and  his 
wife. 

“They  must  have  been  to  the  Zoo,”  said  Mrs.  A.,  “because 
I heard  her  mention  ‘a  trained  deer.’  ” 

“Goodness  me !”  laughed  Mrs.  B.  “What  queer  hearing  you 
must  have ! They  were  talking  about  going  away,  and  she 
said,  ‘Find  out  about  the  train,  dear.’  ” 

“Well  did  anybody  ever?”  exclaimed  Mrs.  C.  “I  am  sure 
they  were  talking  about  musicians,  for  she  said  ‘a  trained  ear,’ 
as  distinctly  as  could  be.” 

The  discussion  began  to  warm  up,  and  in  the  midst  of  it 
the  lady  herself  appeared.  They  carried  their  case  to  her 
promptly,  and  asked  for  a settlement. 


224 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Well,  well,  you  do  beat  all!”  she  exclaimed,  after  hearing 
each  one.  “I’d  been  out  to  the  country  overnight,  and  was 
asking  my  husband  if  it  rained  here  last  night.” 

After  which  the  three  disputants  retired,  abashed  and  in 
silence. — IV.  J.  Lampton. 

HEAVEN 

“Tom,”  said  an  Indiana  youngster  who  was  digging  in  the 
yard,  “don’t  you  make  that  hole  any  deeper,  or  you’ll  come 
to  gas.” 

“Well,  what  if  I do?  It  won’t  hurt.” 

“Yes,  ’t  will  too.  If  it  spouts  out,  we’ll  be  blown  clear  up 
to  heaven.” 

“Shucks,  that  would  be  fun!  You  an’  me  would  be  the  only 
live  ones  up  there.” — I.  C.  Curtis. 

See  also  Future  life. 

HEIRLOOMS 

He  (wondering  if  his  rival  has  been  accepted)— “Are  both 
your  rings  heirlooms?” 

She  (concealing  the  hand) — “Oh,  dear,  yes.  One  has  been 
in  the  family  since  the  time  of  Alfred,  but  the  other  is  newer” 
— (blushing)— “it  only  dates  from  the  conquest.” 

“My  grandfather  was  a captain  of  industry.” 

“Well?” 

“He  left  no  sword,  but  we  still  treasure  the  stubs  of  his 
check-books.” 

HELL 


See  Future  life. 


HEREDITY 

“Papa,  what  does  hereditary  mean?” 

“Something  which  descends  from  father  to  son.” 
“Is  a spanking  hereditary?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


225 


William  had  just  returned  from  college,  resplendent  in  peg- 
top  trousers,  silk  hosiery,  a fancy  waistcoat,  and  a necktie  that 
spoke  for  itself.  He  entered  the  library  where  his  father  was 
reading.  The  old  gentleman  looked  up  and  surveyed  his  son. 
The  longer  he  looked,  the  more  disgusted  he  became. 

“Son,”  he  finally  blurted  out,  “you  look  like  a d fool!” 

Later,  the  old  Major  who  lived  next  door  came  in  and 
greeted  the  boy  heartily.  “William,”  he  said  with  undisguised 
admiration,  “you  look  exactly  like  your  father  did  twenty-five 
years  ago  when  he  came  back  from  school !” 

“Yes,”  replied  William,  with  a smile,  “so  Father  was  just 
telling  me.” 

“There  seems  to  be  a strange  affinity  between  a darky  and 
a chicken.  I wonder  why?”  said  Jones. 

“Naturally  enough,”  replied  Brown.  “One  is  descended 
from  Ham  and  the  other  from  eggs.” 

“So  you  have  adopted  a baby  to  raise?”  we  ask  of  our 
friend.  “Well,  it  may  turn  out  all  right,  but  don’t  you  think 
you  are  taking  chances?” 

“Not  a chance,”  he  answers.  “No  matter  how  many  bad 
habits  the  child  may  develop,  my  wife  can’t  say  he  inherits 
any  of  them  from  my  side  of  the  house.” 

See  also  Ancestry. 


HEROES 

The  Passer-by — “You  took  a great  risk  in  rescuing  that 
boy;  you  deserve  a Carnegie  medal.  What  prompted  you  to 
do  it?” 

The  Hero — “He  had  my  skates  on!” — Puck. 

Mr.  Henpeck — “Are  you  the  man  who  gave  my  wife  a lot  of 
impudence?” 

Mr.  Scraper — “I  reckon  I am.” 

Mr.  Henpeck — “Shake!  You’re  a hero.” 

Each  man  is  a hero  and  an  oracle  to  somebody. — Emerson. 


226 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


HIGH  COST  OF  LIVING 
See  Cost  of  living. 

HINTING 

Little  James,  while  at  a neighbor’s,  was  given  a piece  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  politely  said,  “Thank  you.” 

“That’s  right,  James,”  said  the  lady.  “I  like  to  hear  little 
boys  say  'thank  you.’  ” 

“Well,”  rejoined  James,  “If  you  want  to  hear  me  say  it 
again,  you  might  put  some  jam  on  it.” 

HOME 

Home  is  a place  where  you  can  take  off  your  new  shoes 
and  put  on  your  old  manners. 

Who  hath  not  met  with  home-made  bread, 

A heavy  compound  of  putty  and  lead — 

And  home-made  wines  that  rack  the  head, 

And  home-made  liquors  and  waters? 

Home-made  pop  that  will  not  foam, 

And  home-made  dishes  that  drive  one  from  home — 

sjc  jjc  jJc  :Jc  4s  ^ 

Home-made  by  the  homely  daughters. 


— Hood. 

HOMELINESS 
See  Beauty,  Personal. 

HOMESTEADS 

“Malachi,”  said  a prospective  homesteader  to  a lawyer,  “you 
know  all  about  this  law.  Tell  me  what  I am  to  do.” 

“Well,”  said  the  other,  “I  don’t  remember  the  exact  word- 
ing of  the  law,  but  I can  give  you  the  meaning  of  it.  It’s  this : 
The  government  is  willin’  to  bet  3^ou  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  of  land  against  fourteen  dollars  that  you  can’t  live  on 
it  five  years  without  starving  to  death.” — Fenimore  Martin. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


227 


HONESTY 

“He’s  an  honest  young  man”  said  the  saloon  keeper,  with 
an  approving  smile.  “He  sold  his  vote  to  pay  his  whiskey  bill.” 

Visitor — “And  you  always  did  your  daring  robberies  single- 
handed?  Why  didn’t  you  have  a pal?” 

Prisoner — “Well,  sir,  I wuz  afraid  he  might  turn  out  to  be 
dishonest.” 

Ex-District  Attorney  Jerome,  at  a dinner  in  New  York,  told 
a story  about  honesty.  “There  was  a man,”  he  said,  “who 
applied  for  a position  in  a dry-goods  house.  His  appearance 
wasn’t  prepossessing,  and  references  were  demanded.  After 
some  hesitation,  he  gave  the  name  of  a driver  in  the  firm’s 
employ.  This  driver,  he  thought,  would  vouch  for  him.  A 
clerk  sought  out  the  driver,  and  asked  him  if  the  applicant  was 
honest.  “Honest?”  the  driver  said.  “Why,  his  honesty's  been 
proved  again  and  again.  To  my  certain  knowledge  he’s  been 
arrested  nine  times  for  stealing  and  every  time  he  was  ac- 
quitted.” 

“How  is  it,  Mr.  Brown,”  said  a miller  to  a farmer,  “that 
when  I came  to  measure  those  ten  barrels  of  apples  I bought 
from  you,  I found  them  nearly  two  barrels  short?” 

“Singular,  very  singular;  for  I sent  them  to  you  in  ten  of 
your  own  flour-barrels.” 

“Ahem!  Did,  eh?”  said  the  miller.  “Well,  perhaps  I made 
a mistake.  Let’s  imbibe.” 

The  stranger  laid  down  four  aces  and  scooped  in  the  pot. 

“This  game  ain’t  on  the  level,”  protested  Sagebush  Sam,  at 
the  same  time  producing  a gun  to  lend  force  to  his  accusa- 
tion. “That  ain’t  the  hand  I dealt  ye !” 

A dumpy  little  woman  with  solemn  eyes,  holding  by  the 
hand  two  dumpy  little  boys,  came  to  the  box-office  of  a the- 
ater. Handing  in  a quarter,  she  asked  meekly  for  the  best  seat 
she  could  get  for  that  money. 


228 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Those  boys  must  have  tickets  if  you  take  them  in,”  said 
the  clerk. 

“Oh,  no,  mister,”  she  said.  “I  never  pay  for  them.  I 
never  can  spare  more  than  a quarter,  and  I just  love  a show. 
We  won’t  cheat  you  any,  mister,  for  they  both  go  sound  asleep 
just  as  soon  as  they  get  into  a seat,  and  don’t  see  a single  bit 
of  it.” 

The  argument  convinced  the  ticket  man,  and  he  allowed  the 
two  children  to  pass  in. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  second  act  an  usher  came  out  of  the 
auditorium  and  handed  a twenty-five-cent  piece  to  the  ticket- 
seller. 

“What’s  this?”  demanded  the  latter. 

“I  don’t  know,”  said  the  usher.  “A  little  chunk  of  a woman 
beckoned  me  clear  across  the  house,  and  said  one  of  her  kids 
had  waked  up  and  was  looking  at  the  show,  and  that  I should 
bring  you  that  quarter.” 

HONOR 

In  the  smoking  compartment  of  a Pullman,  there  were  six 
men  smoking  and  reading.  All  of  a sudden  a door  banged  and 
the  conductor’s  voice  cried : 

“All  tickets,  please!” 

Then  one  of  the  men  in  the  compartment  leaped  to  his  feet, 
scanned  the  faces  of  the  others  and  said,  slowly  and  impres- 
sively : 

“Gentlemen,  I trust  to  your  honor.” 

And  he  dived  under  the  seat  and  remained  there  in  a small, 
silent  knot  till  the  conductor  was  safely  gone. 

Titles  of  honour  add  not  to  his  worth, 

Who  is  himself  an  honour  to  his  titles. 

— John  Ford. 


0 HOPE 

Fred — “My  dear  Dora,  let  this  thought  console  you  for  your 
lover’s  death.  Remember  that  other  and  better  men  than  he 
have  gone  the  same  way.” 

Bereaved  One — “They  haven’t  all  gone,  have  they?” — Puck. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


229 


HORSES 

A city  man,  visiting  a small  country  town,  boarded  a stage 
with  two  dilapidated  horses,  and  found  that  he  had  no  other 
currency  than  a five-dollar  bill.  This  he  proffered  £0  the  driver. 
The  latter  took  it,  looked  it  over  for  a moment  or  so,  and 
then  asked: 

“Which  horse  do  you  want?” 

A traveler  in  Indiana  noticed  that  a farmer  was  having 
trouble  with  his  horse.  It  would  start,  go  slowly  for  a short 
distance,  and  then  stop  again.  Thereupon  the  farmer  would 
have  great  difficulty  in  getting  it  started.  Finally  the  traveler 
approached  and  asked,  solicitously: 

“Is  your  horse  sick?” 

“Not  as  I knows  of.” 

“Is  he  balky?” 

“No.  But  he  is  so  danged  ’fraid  I’ll  say  whoa  and  he  won’t 
hear  me,  that  he  stops  every  once  in  a while  to  listen.” 

A German  farmer  was  in  search  of  a horse. 

“I’ve  got  just  the  horse  for  you,”  said  the  liveryman.  “He’s 
five  years  old,  sound  as  a dollar  and  goes  ten  miles  without 
stopping.” 

The  German  threw  his  hands  skyward. 

“Not  for  me,”  he  said,  “not  for  me.  I live  eight  miles  from 
town,  und  mit  dot  horse  I haf  to  valk  back  two  miles.” 

There’s  a grocer  who  is  notorious  for  his  wretched  horse 
flesh. 

The  grocer’s  boy  is  rather  a reckless  driver.  He  drove  one 
of  his  master’s  worst  nags  a little  too  hard  one  day,  and  the 
animal  fell  ill  and  died. 

“You’ve  killed  my  horse,  curse  you !”  the  grocer  said  to  the 
boy  the  next  morning. 

“I’m  sorry,  boss,”  the  lad  faltered! 

“Sorry  be  durned!”  shouted  the  grocer.  “Who’s  going  to 
pay  me  for  my  horse?” 

“I’ll  make  it  all  right,  boss,”  said  the  boy  soothingly.  “You 
can  take  it  out  of  my  next  Saturday’s  wages.” 


230 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Before  Abraham  Lincoln  became  President  he  was  called 
out  of  town  on  important  law  business.  As  he  had  a long 
distance  to  travel  he  hired  a horse  from  a livery  stable.  When 
a few  days  later  he  returned  he  took  the  horse  back  to  the 
stable  and  asked  the  man  who  had  given  it  to  him:  ‘‘Keep  this 
horse  for  funerals  ?” 

“No,  indeed,”  answered  the  man  indignantly. 

“Glad  to  hear  it,”  said  Lincoln;  “because  if  you  did  the 
corpse  wouldn’t  get  there  in  time  for  the  resurrection.” 

HOSPITALITY 

Night  was  approaching  and  it  was  raining  hard.  The  trav- 
eler dismounted  from  his  horse  and  rapped  at  the  door  of  the 
one  farmhouse  he  had  struck  in  a five-mile  stretch  of  traveling. 
No  one  came  to  the  door. 

As  he  stood  on  the  doorstep  the  water  from  the  eaves 
trickled  down  his  collar.  He  rapped  again.  Still  no  answer. 
He  could  feel  the  stream  of  water  coursing  down  his  back. 
Another  spell  of  pounding,  and  finally  the  red  head  of  a lad 
of  twelve  was  stuck  out  of  the  second  story  window. 

“Watcher  want?”  it  asked. 

“I  want  to  know  if  I can  stay  here  over  night,”  the  traveler 
answered  testily. 

The  red-headed  lad  watched  the  man  for  a minute  or  two 
before  answering. 

“Ye  kin  fer  all  of  me,”  he  finally  answered,  and  then  closed 
the  window. 

The  old  friends  had  had  three  days  together. 

“You  have  a pretty  place  here,  John,”  remarked  the  guest 
on  the  morning  of  his  departure.  “But  it  looks  a bit  bare  yet.” 

“Oh,  that’s  because  the  trees  are  so  young,”  answered  the 
host  comfortably.  “I  hope  they’ll  have  grown  to  a good  size 
before  you  come  again.” 

A youngster  of  three  was  enjoying  a story  his  mother  was 
reading  aloud  to  him  when  a caller  came.  In  a few  minutes 
his  mother  was  called  to  the  telephone.  The  boy  turned  to 
the  caller  and  said  “Now  you  beat  it  home.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


231 


Ollie  James,  the  famous  Kentucky  Congressman  and  racon- 
teur, hails  from  a little  town  in  the  western  part  of  the  state, 
but  his  patriotism  is  state-wide,  and  when  Louisville  made  a 
bid  for  the  last  Democratic  national  convention  she  had  no 
more  enthusiastic  supporter  than  James.  A Denver  supporter 
was  protesting. 

“Why,  you  know,  Colonel,”  said  he,  “Louisville  couldn’t 
take  care  of  the  crowds.  Even  by  putting  cots  in  the  halls, 
parlors,  and  the  dining-rooms  of  the  hotels  there  wouldn’t  be 
beds  enough.” 

“Beds!”  echoed  the  genial  Congressman,  “why,  sir,  Louis- 
ville would  make  her  visitors  have  such  a thundering  good 
time  that  no  gentleman  would  think  of  going  to  bed!” 

HOSTS 

I thank  you  for  your  welcome  which  was  cordial, 

And  your  cordial  which  was  welcome. 

Here’s  to  the  host  and  the  hostess, 

We’re  honored  to  be  here  tonight; 

May  they  both  live  long  and  prosper, 

May  their  star  of  hope  ever  be  bright. 

HOTELS 

In  a Montana  hotel  there  is  a notice  which  reads:  “Board- 
ers taken  by  the  day,  week  or  month.  Those  who  do  not  pay 
promptly  will  be  taken  by  the  neck.” — Country  Life. 

HUNGER 

A man  was  telling  about  an  exciting  experience  in  Russia. 
His  sleigh  was  pursued  over  the  frozen  wastes  by  a pack  of 
at  least  a dozen  famished  wolves.  He  arose  and  shot  the  fore- 
most one,  and  the  others  stopped  to  devour  it.  But  they  soon 
caught  up  with  him,  and  he  shot  another,  which  was  in  turn 
devoured.  This  was  repeated  until  the  last  famished  wolf  was 
almost  upon  him  with  yearning  jaws,  when 

“Say,  partner,”  broke  in  one  of  the  listeners,  “according 


232 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


to  your  reckoning  that  last  famished  wolf  must  have  had  the 
other  ’leven  inside  of  him.,, 

“Well,  come  to  think  it  over,”  said  the  story  teller,  “maybe 
he  wasn’t  so  darned  famished  after  all.” 

HUNTING 

A gentleman  from  London  was  invited  to  go  for  “a  day’s 
snipe-shooting”  in  the  country.  The  invitation  was  accepted, 
and  host  and  guest  shouldered  guns  and  sallied  forth  in  quest 
of  game. 

After  a time  a solitary  snipe  rose,  and  promptly  fell  to 
the  visitor’s  first  barrell. 

The  host’s  face  fell  also. 

“We  may  as  well  return,”  he  remarked,  gloomily,  “for  that 
was  the  only  snipe  in  the  neighborhood.” 

The  bird  had  afforded  excellent  sport  to  all  his  friends  for 
six  weeks. 

HURRY 


See  Haste. 


HUSBANDS 

“Is  she  making  him  a good  wife?” 

“Well,  not  exactly;  but  she’s  making  him  a good  husband.” 

A husband  and  wife  ran  a freak  show  in  a certain  provin- 
cial town,  but  unfortunately  they  quarreled,  and  the  exhibits 
were  equally  divided  between  them.  The  wife  decided  to  con- 
tinue business  as  an  exhibitor  at  the  old  address,  but  the  hus- 
band went  on  a tour. 

After  some  years’  wandering  the  prodigal  returned,  and  a 
reconciliation  took  place,  as  the  result  of  which  they  became 
business  partners  once  more.  A few  mornings  afterward  the 
people  of  the  neighborhood  were  sent  into  fits  of  laughter  on 
reading  the  following  notice  in  the  papers : 

“By  the  return  of  my  husband  my  stock  of  freaks  has  been 
permanently  increased.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


233 


An  eminent  German  scientist  who  recently  visited  this  country 
with  a number  of  his  colleagues  was  dining  at  an  American 
house  and  telling  how  much  he  had  enjoyed  various  phases  of 
his  visit. 

“How  did  you  like  our  railroad  trains?”  his  host  asked  him. 

“Ach,  dhey  are  woonderful,”  the  German  gentleman  replied; 
“so  swift,  so  safe  chenerally — und  such  luxury  in  all  dhe  fur- 
nishings und  opp’indmends.  All  is  excellent  excebt  one  thing — 
our  wives  do  not  like  dhe  upper  berths.” 

A couple  of  old  grouches  at  the  Metropolitan  Club  in  Wash- 
ington were  one  night  speaking  of  an  old  friend  who,  upon  his 
marriage,  took  up  his  residence  in  another  city.  One  of  the 
grouches  had  recently  visited  the  old  friend,  and,  naturally,  the 
other  grouch  wanted  news  of  the  Benedict. 

“Is  it  true  that  he  is  henpecked?”  asked  the  second  grouch. 

“I  wouldn’t  say  just  that,”  grimly  responded  the  first  grouch, 
“but  I’ll  tell  you  of  a little  incident  in  their  household  that  came 
within  my  observation.  The  very  first  morning  I spent  with 
them,  our  old  friend  answered  the  letter  carrier’s  whistle.  As 
he  returned  to  us,  in  the  breakfast  room,  he  carried  a letter  in 
his  hand.  Turning  to  his  wife,  he  saidj 

“ ‘A  letter  for  me,  dear.  May  I open,  it  ?’ 99 

— Edwin  Tarrisse. 

“Your  husband  says  he  leads  a dog’s  life,”  said  one  woman. 

“Yes,  it’s  very  similar,”  answered  the  other.  “He  comes  in 
with  muddy  feet,  makes  himself  comfortable  by  the  fire,  and 
waits  to  be  fed.” 

Neighbor — “I  s’pose  your  Bill’s  ’ittin’  the  ’arp  with  the  han- 
gels  now?” 

Long-Suffering  Widow — “Not  ’im.  ’Ittin’  the  hangels  wiv 
the  ’arp’s  nearer  ’is  mark!” 

v 

“You  say  you  are  your  wife’s  third  husband?”  said  one  man 
to  another  during  a talk. 

“No,  I am  her  fourth  husband,”  was  the  reply. 

“Heavens,  man !”  said  the  first  man ; “you  are  not  a hus- 
band— you’re  a habit.” 


234 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Mr.  Henpeck — “Is  my  wife  going  out,  Jane?” 

J ANE — “ Y essir 

Mr.  Henpeck — “Do  you  know  if  I am  going  with  her?” 

A happily  married  woman,  who  had  enjoyed  thirty- three 
years  of  wedlock,  and  who  was  the  grandmother  of  four  beau- 
tiful little  children,  had  an  amusing  old  colored  woman  for  a 
cook. 

One  day  when  a box  of  especially  beautiful  flowers  was  left 
for  the  mistress,  the  cook  happened  to  be  present,  and  she  said: 
“Yo’  husband  send  you  all  the  pretty  flowers  you  gits,  Missy?” 

“Certainly,  my  husband,  Mammy,”  proudly  answered  the  lady. 

“Glory!”  exclaimed  the  cook,  “he  suttenly  am  holdin’  out 
well.” 


An  absent-minded  man  was  interrupted  as  he  was  finishing 
a letter  to  his  wife,  in  the  office.  As  a result,  the  signature  read : 

Your  loving  husband, 
Hopkins  Bros. 

— Winifred  C.  Bristol. 


Mrs.  McKinley  used  to  tell  of  a colored  widow  whose  chil- 
dren she  had  helped  educate.  The  widow,  rather  late  in  life, 
married  again. 

“How  are  you  getting  on?”  Mrs.  McKinley  asked  her  a few 
months  after  her  marriage. 

“Fine,  thank  yo’,  ma’am,”  the  bride  answered. 

“And  is  your  husband  a good  provider?” 

“ ’Deed  he  am  a good  providah,  ma’am,”  was  the  enthusiastic 
reply.  “Why,  jes’  dis  las’  week  he  got  me  five  new  places  to 
wash  at.” 


“I  suffer  so  from  insomnia  I don’t  know  what  to  do.” 

“Oh,  my  dear,  if  you  could  only  talk  to  my  husband  awhile.” 


‘Did  Hardlucke  bear  his  misfortune  like  a man?” 
‘Exactly  like  one.  He  blamed  it  all  on  his  wife.” — Judge. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


235 


A popular  society  woman  announced  a “White  Elephant 
Party.”  Every  guest  was  to  bring  something  that  she  could  not 
find  any  use  for,  and  yet  too  good  to  throw  away.  The  party 
would  have  been  a great  success  but  for  the  unlooked-for  de- 
velopment which  broke  it  up.  Eleven  of  the  nineteen  women 
brought  their  husbands. 


A very  man — not  one  of  nature’s  clods — 

With  human  failings,  whether  saint  or  sinner : 
Endowed  perhaps  with  genius  from  the  gods 
But  apt  to  take  his  temper  from  his  dinner. 

— /.  G.  Saxe. 


A woman  mounted  the  steps  of  the  elevated  station  carrying 
an  umbrella  like  a reversed  saber.  An  attendant  warned  her 
that  she  might  put  out  the  eye  of  the  man  behind  her. 

“Well,  he’s  my  husband!”  she  snapped. 


Old  Money  (dying) — “I’m  afraid  I’ve  been  a brute  to  you 
sometimes,  dear.” 

Young  Wife — “Oh,  never  mind  that  darling;  I’ll  always  re- 
member how  very  kind  you  were  when  you  left  me.” 

An  inveterate  poker  player,  whose  wife  always  complained 
of  his  late  hours,  stayed  out  even  later  than  usual  one  night 
and  tells  in  the  following  way  of  his  attempt  to  get  in  un- 
noticed : 

“I  slipped  off  my  shoes  at  the  front  steps,  pulled  off  my  clothes 
in  the  hall,  slipped  into  the  bedroom,  and  began  to  slip  into  bed 
with  the  ease  of  experience. 

“My  wife  has  a blamed  fine  dog  that  on  cold  nights  insists 
on  jumping  in  the  bed  with  us.  So  when  I began  to  slide 
under  the  covers  she  stirred  in  her  sleep  and  pushed  me  on  the 
head. 

“ ‘Get  down,  Fido,  get  down !’  she  said. 

“And,  gentlemen,  I just  did  have  presence  of  mind  enough 
to  lick  her  hand,  and  she  dozed  off  again !” 


236 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Mr.  Homebody — “I  see  you  keep  copies  of  all  the  letters  you 
write  to  your  wife.  Do  you  do  it  to  avoid  repeating  yourself?” 
Mr.  Faraway — “No.  To  avoid  contradicting  myself.” 


There  is  gladness  in  his  gladness,  when  he’s  glad, 
There  is  sadness  in  his  sadness,  when  he’s  sad ; 

But  the  gladness  in  his  gladness, 

Nor  the  sadness  in  his  sadness, 

Isn’t  a marker  to  his  madness  when  he’s  mad. 


See  also  Cowards;  Domestic  finance. 


HYBRIDIZATION 

We  used  to  think  that  the  smartest  man  ever  born  was  the 
Connecticut  Yankee  who  grafted  white  birch  on  red  maples  and 
grew  barber  poles.  Now  we  rank  that  gentleman  second.  First 
place  goes  to  an  experimenter  attached  to  the  Berlin  War  Office, 
who  has  crossed  carrier  pigeons  with  parrots,  so  that  Wil- 
helmstrasse  can  now  get  verbal  messages  through  the  enemy’s 
lines. 

— Warwick  James  Price. 


HYPERBOLE 

“Speakin’  of  fertile  soil,”  said  the  Kansan,  when  the  others 
had  had  their  say,  “I  never  saw  a place  where  melons  growed 
like  they  used  to  out  in  my  part  of  the  country.  The  first  season 
I planted  ’em  I thought  my  fortune  was  sure  made.  However, 
I didn’t  harvest  one.” 

He  waited  for  queries,  but  his  friends  knew  him,  and  he  was 
forced  to  continue  unurged: 

“The  vines  growed  so  fast  that  they  wore  out  the  melons 
draggin’  ’em  ’round.  However,  the  second  year  my  two  little 
boys  made  up  their  minds  to  get  a taste  of  one  anyhow,  so  they 
took  turns,  carryin’  one  along  with  the  vine  and ” 

But  his  companions  had  already  started  toward  the  bar- 
room door. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


237 


News  comes  from  Southern  Kansas  that  a boy  climbed  a 
cornstalk  to  see  how  the  sky  and  clouds  looked  and  now  the 
stalk  is  growing  faster  than  the  boy  can  climb  down.  The  boy  is 
clear  out  of  sight.  Three  men  have  taken  the  contract  for  cutting 
down  the  stalk  with  axes  to  save  the  boy  a horrible  death  by 
starving,  but  the  stalk  grows  so  rapidly  that  they  can’t  hit  twice 
in  the  same  place.  The  boy  is  living  on  green  corn  alone  and  has 
already  thrown  down  over  four  bushels  of  cobs.  Even  if  the 
corn  holds  out  there  is  still  danger  that  the  boy  will  reach  a 
height  where  he  will  be  frozen  to  death.  There  is  some  talk  of 
attempting  his  rescue  with  a balloon. — Topeka  Capital. 

HYPOCRISY 

Hypocrisy  is  all  right  if  we  can  pass  it  off  as  politeness. 


Teacher — “Now,  Tommy,  what  is  a hypocrite?” 

Tommy — “A  boy  that  comes  to  school  with  a smile  on  his 
face.” — Graham  Chart eris. 


IDEALS 

The  fact  that  his  two  pet  bantam  hens  laid  very  small  eggs 
troubled  little  Johnny.  At  last  he  was  seized  with  an  inspira- 
tion. Johnny’s  father,  upon  going  to  the  fowl-run  one  morning, 
was  surprised  at  seeing  an  ostrich  egg  tied  to  one  of  the  beams, 
with  this  injunction  chalked  above  it: 

“Keep  your  eye  on  this  and  do  your  best.” 

ILLUSIONS  AND  HALLUCINATIONS 

A doctor  came  up  to  a patient  in  an  insane  asylum,  slapped 
him  on  the  back,  and  said:  “Well,  old  man,  you’re  all  right. 

You  can  run  along  and  write  your  folks  that  you’ll  be  back  home 
in  two  weeks  as  good  as  new.” 

The  patient  went  off  gayly  to  write  his  letter.  He  had  it  fin- 
ished and  sealed,  but  when  he  was  licking  the  stamp  it  slipped 
through  his  fingers  to  the  floor,  lighted  on  the  back  of  a cock- 
roach that  was  passing,  and  stuck.  The  patient  hadn’t  seen  the 


238 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


cockroach — what  he  did  see  was  his  escaped  postage  stamp  zig- 
zagging aimlessly  across  the  floor  to  the  baseboard,  wavering  up 
over  the  baseboard,  and  following  a crooked  track  up  the  wall 
and  across  the  ceiling.  In  depressed  silence  he  tore  up  the  letter 
he  had  just  written  and  dropped  the  pieces  on  the  floor. 

“Two  weeks ! Hell !”  he  said.  “I  won’t  be  out  of  here  in 
three  years.” 


IMAGINATION 

One  day  a mother  overheard  her  daughter  arguing  with  a 
little  boy  about  their  respective  ages. 

“I  am  older  than  you,”  he  said,  “ ’cause  my  birthday  comes 
first,  in  May,  and  your’s  don’t  come  till  September.” 

“Of  course  your  birthday  comes  first,”  she  sneeringly  re- 
torted, “but  that  is  ’cause  you  came  down  first.  I remember 
looking  at  the  angels  when  they  were  making  you.” 

The  mother  instantly  summoned  her  daughter.  “It’s  break- 
ing mother’s  heart  to  hear  you  tell  such  awful  stories,”  she  said. 
“Don’t  you  remember  what  happened  to  Ananias  and  Sapphira?” 
“Oh,  yes,  mamma,  I know;  they  were  struck  dead  for  lying. 
I saw  them  carried  into  the  corner  drug  store !” 


IMITATION 

Not  long  ago  a company  was  rehearsing  for  an  open-air  per- 
formance of  As  You  Like  It  near  Boston.  The  garden  wherein 
they  were  to  play  was  overlooked  by  a rising  brick  edifice. 

One  afternoon,  during  a pause  in  the  rehearsal,  a voice  from 
the  building  exclaimed  with  the  utmost  gravity: 

“I  prithee,  malapert,  pass  me  yon  brick.” 


INFANTS 

A wife  after  the  divorce,  said  to  her  husband : 

“I  am  willing  to  let  you  have  the  baby  half  the  time.” 
“Good!”  said  he,  rubbing  his  hands.  “Splendid!” 
“Yes,”  she  resumed,  “you  may  have  him  nights.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


239 


“Is  the  baby  strong  ?” 

“Well,  rather!  You  know  what  a tremendous  voice  he  has?” 
“Yes.” 

“Well,  he  lifts  that  five  or  six  times  an  hour ! ” 

— Comic  Cuts. 


Recipe  for  a baby: 

Clean  and  dress  a wriggle,  add  a pint  of  nearly  milk, 
Smother  with  a pillow  any  sneeze; 

Baste  with  talcum  powder  and  mark  upon  its  back — 
“Don’t  forget  that  you  were  one  of  these.” 

— Life . 

INQUISITIVENESS 


See  Wives. 


INSANITY 

See  Editors;  Love. 

INSPIRATIONS 

She  was  from  Boston,  and  he  was  not. 

He  had  spent  a harrowing  evening  discussing  authors  of 
whom  he  knew  nothing,  and  their  books,  of  which  he  knew  less. 

Presently  the  maiden  asked  archly:  “Of  course,  you’ve  read 

‘Romeo  and  Juliet?’” 

He  floundered  helplessly  for  a moment  and  then,  having  a 
brilliant  thought,  blurted  out,  happily: 

“I’ve — I’ve  read  Romeo!” 

INSTALMENT  PLAN 

Half  the  world  doesn’t  know  how  many  things  the  other  half 
is  paying  instalments  on. 

INSTRUCTIONS 

A lively  looking  porter  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of  a 
sleeping-car  in  the  Pennsylvania  station  when  a fussy  and 


240 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


choleric  old  man  clambered  up  the  steps.  He  stopped  at  the 
door,  puffed  for  a moment,  and  then  turned  to  the  young  man 
in  uniform. 

“Porter,”  he  said.  “I’m  going  to  St.  Louis,  to  the  Fair.  I 
want  to  be  well  taken  care  of.  I pay  for  it.  Do  you  under- 
stand?” 

“Yes,  sir,  but ” 

“Never  mind  any  ‘buts.’  You  listen  to  what  I say.  Keep 
the  train  boys  away  from  me.  Dust  me  off  whenever  I want 
you  to.  Give  me  an  extra  blanket,  and  if  there  is  any  one  in 
the  berth  over  me  slide  him  into  another.  I want  you  to ” 

“But,  say,  boss,  I ” 

“Young  man,  when  I’m  giving  instructions  I prefer  to  do 
the  talking  myself.  You  do  as  I say.  Here  is  a two-dollar  bill. 
I want  to  get  the  good  of  it.  Not  a word,  sir.” 

The  train  was  starting.  The  porter  pocketed  the  bill  with  a 
grin  and  swung  himself  to  the  ground.  “All  right,  boss!”  he 
shouted.  “You  can  do  the  talking  if  you  want  to.  I’m  powerful 
sorry  you  wouldn’t  let  me  tell  you — but  I ain’t  going  out  on  that 
train.” 


INSURANCE,  LIFE 

A man  went  to  an  insurance  office  to  have  his  life  insured  the 
other  day. 

“Do  you  cycle?”  the  insurance  agent  asked. 

“No,”  said  the  man. 

“Do  you  motor?” 

“No.” 

“Do  you,  then,  perhaps,  fly?” 

“No,  no,”  said  the  applicant,  laughing;  “I  have  no  danger- 
ous  ” 

But  the  agent  interrupted  him  curtly. 

“Sorry,  sir,”  he  said,  “but  we  no  longer  insure  pedestrians.” 


INSURANCE  BLANKS 


See  Irish  bulls. 


T O AST  ER’S  HANDBOOK 


241 


INSURGENTS 

“And  what,”  asked  a visitor  to  the  North  Dakota  State  Fair, 
“do  you  call  that  kind  of  cucumber?” 

“That,”  replied  a Fargo  politician,  “is  the  Insurgent  cucum- 
ber. It  doesn’t  always  agree  with  a party.” 


INTERVIEWS 

“Haven’t  your  opinions  on  this  subject  undergone  a change?” 
“No,”  replied  Senator  Soghum. 

“But  your  views,  as  you  expressed  them  some  time  ago  ?” 
“Those  were  not  my  views.  Those  were  my  interviews.” 


INVITATIONS 

“Recently,”  says  a Richmond  man,  “I  received  an  invitation 
to  the  marriage  of  a young  colored  couple  formerly  in  my  em- 
ploy. I am  quite  sure  that  all  persons  similarly  favored  were 
left  in  little  doubt  as  to  the  attitude  of  the  couple.  The  invita- 
tion ran  as  follows : 

“You  are  invited  to  the  marriage  of  Mr.  Henry  Clay  Barker 
and  Miss  Josephine  Mortimer  Dixon  at  the  house  of  the  bride’s 
mother.  All  who  cannot  come  may  send.” — Howard  Morse . 


One  day  a Chinese  poor  man  met  the  head  of  his  family  in 
the  street. 

“Come  and  dine  with  us  tonight,”  the  mandarin  said  gra- 
ciously. 

“Thank  you,”  said  the  poor  relation.  “But  wouldn’t  tomor- 
row night  do  just  as  well?” 

“Yes,  certainly.  But  where  are  you  dining  tonight?”  asked 
the  mandarin  curiously. 

“At  your  house.  You  see,  your  estimable  wife  was  good 
enough  to  give  me  tonight’s  invitation.” 


24  2 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Marion  (just  from  the  telephone) — “He  wanted  to  know 
if  we  would  go  to  the  theater  with  him,  and  I said  we  would.” 

Madeline — “Who  was  speaking?” 

Marion — “Oh,  gracious!  I forgot  to  ask.” 

Little  Willie  wanted  a birthday  party,  to  which  his  mother 
consented,  provided  he  ask  his  little  friend  Tommy.  The  boys 
had  had  trouble,  but,  rather  than  not  have  the  party,  Willie 
promised  his  mother  to  invite  Tommy. 

On  the  evening  of  the  party,  when  all  the  small  guests  had 
arrived  except  Tommy,  the  mother  became  suspicious  and 
sought  her  son. 

“Willie,”  she  said,  “did  you  invite  Tommy  to  your  party 
tonight?” 

“Yes,  Mother.” 

“And  did  he  say  he  would  not  come?” 

“No,”  explained  Willie.  “I  invited  him  all  right,  but  I dared 
him  to  come.” 

IRISH  BULLS 

Two  Irishmen  were  among  a class  that  was  being  drilled  in 
marching  tactics.  One  was  new  at  the  business,  and,  turning  to 
his  companion,  asked  him  the  meaning  of  the  command  “Halt!” 
“Why,”  said  Mike,  “when  he  says  'Halt/  you  just  bring  the  foot 
that’s  on  the  ground  to  the  side  av  the  foot  that’s  in  the  air,  an’ 
remain  motionless.” 

“Dear  teacher,”  wrote  little  Johnny’s  mother,  “kindly  excuse 
John’s  absence  from  school  yesterday  afternoon,  as  he  fell  in 
the  mud.  By  doing  the  same  you  will  greatly  oblige  his 
mother.” 

An  Irishman  once  was  mounted  on  a mule  which  was  kick- 
ing its  legs  rather  freely.  The  mule  finally  got  its  hoof  caught 
in  the  stirrup,  when  the  Irishman  excitedly  remarked:  “Well, 

begorra,  if  you’re  goin’  to  git  on  I’ll  git  off.” 

“The  doctor  says  if  ’e  lasts  till  moring  ’e’ll  ’ave  some  ’ope, 
but  if  ’e  don’t,  the  doctor  says  ’e  give  ’im  up.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


243 


For  rent — A room  for  a gentleman  with  all  conveniences. 

A servant  of  an  English  nobleman  died  and  her  relatives 
telegraphed  him:  “Jane  died  last  night,  and  wishes  to  know 

if  your  lordship  will  pay  her  funeral  expenses.” 

A pretty  school  teacher,  noticing  one  of  her  little  charges 
idle,  said  sharply:  “John,  the  devil  always  finds  something  for 

idle  hands  to  do.  Come  up  here  and  let  me  give  you  some 
work.” 

A college  professor,  noted  for  strict  discipline,  entered  the 
classroom  one  day  and  noticed  a girl  student  sitting  with  her 
feet  in  the  aisle  and  chewing  gum. 

“Mary,”  exclaimed  the  indignant  professor,  “take  that  gum 
out  of  your  mouth  and  put  your  feet  in.” 

Magistrate — “You  admit  you  stole  the  pig?” 

Prisoner — “I  ’ave  to.” 

Magistrate — “Very  well,  then.  There  has  been  a lot  of  pig- 
stealing going  on  lately,  and  I am  going  to  make  an  example  of 
you,  or  none  of  us  will  be  safe.” — M.  L.  Hayward. 

“In  choosing  his  men,”  said  the  Sabbath-school  superin- 
tendent, “Gideon  did  not  select  those  who  laid  aside  their  arms 
and  threw  themselves  down  to  drink;  but  he  took  those  who 
watched  with  one  eye  and  drank  with  the  other.” — Joe  King. 

“If  you  want  to  put  that  song  over  you  must  sing  louder.” 

“I’m  singing  as  loud  as  I can.  What  more  can  I do?” 

“Be  more  enthusiastic.  Open  your  mouth  and  throw  yourself 
into  it.” 

A little  old  Irishman  was  trying  to  see  the  Hudson-Fulton 
procession  from  Grant’s  Tomb.  He  stood  up  on  a bench,  but 
was  jerked  down  by  a policeman.  Then  he  tried  the  stone 
balustrade  and  being  removed  from  that  vantage  point,  climbed 
the  railing  of  Li  Hung  Chang’s  gingko-tree.  Pulled  off  that,  he 
remarked:  “Ye  can’t  look  at  annything  frum  where  ye  can  see 

it  frum.” 


244 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Mrs.  Jenkins — “Mrs.  Smith,  we  shall  be  neighbors  now.  I 
have  bought  a house  next  you,  with  a water  frontage.” 

Mrs.  Smith — “So  glad ! I hope  you  will  drop  in  some  time.” 


In  the  hall  of  a Philharmonic  society  the  following  notice 
was  posted: 

“The  seats  in  this  hall  are  for  the  use  of  the  ladies.  Gentle- 
men are  requested  to  make  use  of  them  only  after  the  former 
are  seated.” 


Sir  Boyle  Roche  is  credited  with  saying  that  “no  man  can 
be  in  two  places  at  the  same  time,  barring  he  is  a bird.” 


A certain  high-school  professor,  who  at  times  is  rather  blunt 
in  speech,  remarked  to  his  class  of  boys  at  the  beginning  of  a 
lesson.  “I  don’t  know  why  it  is — every  time  I get  up  to  speak, 
some  fool  talks.”  Then  he  wondered  why  the  boys  burst  out 
into  a roar  of  laughter. — Grub  S.  Arts. 


Once,  at  a criminal  court,  a young  chap  from  Connemara  was 
being  tried  for  an  agrarian  murder.  Needless  to  say,  he  had 
the  gallery  on  his  side,  and  the  men  and  women  began  to  express 
their  admiration  by  stamping,  not  loudly,  but  like  muffled  drums. 
A big  policeman  came  up  to  the  gallery,  scowled  at  the  disturb- 
ers then,  when  that  had  no  effect,  called  out  in  a stage  whisper : 
“Wud  ye  howld  yer  tongues  there!  Howld  yer  tongues  wid 
yer  feet!” 


The  ways  in  which  application  forms  for  insurance  are  filled 
up  are  often  more  amusing  than  enlightening,  as  The  British 
Medical  Journal  shows  in  the  following  excellent  selection  of 
examples : 

Mother  died  in  infancy. 

Father  went  to  bed  feeling  well,  and  the  next  morning  woke 
up  dead. 

Grandmother  died  suddenly  at  the  age  of  103.  Up  to  this 
time  she  bade  fair  to  reach  a ripe  old  age. 


T 0 A S T E R’S  HANDBOOK 


245 


Applicant  does  not  know  anything  about  maternal  posterity, 
except  that  they  died  at  an  advanced  age. 

Applicant  does  not  know  cause  of  mother’s  death,  but  states 
that  she  fully  recovered  from  her  last  illness. 

Applicant  has  never  been  fatally  sick. 

Applicant’s  brother  who  was  an  infant  died  when  he  was 
a mere  child. 

Mother’s  last  illness  was  caused  from  chronic  rheumatism, 
but  she  was  cured  before  death. 

IRISHMEN 

A Peoria  merchant  deals  in  “Irish  confetti.”  We  take  it  that 
he  runs  a brick-yard. — Chicago  Tribune. 

Here  are  some  words,  concerning  the  Hibernian  spoken  by 
a New  England  preacher,  Nathaniel  Ward,  in  the  sober  year 
of  sixteen  hundred — a spark  of  humor  struck  from  flint.  “These 
Irish,  anciently  called  ‘Anthropophagi,’  man-eaters,  have  a tra- 
dition among  them  that  when  the  devil  showed  Our  Savior 
all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  their  glory,  he  would  not 
show  Him  Ireland,  but  reserved  it  for  himself ; it  is  probably 
true,  for  he  hath  kept  it  ever  since  for  his  own  peculiar.” 

An  Irishman  once  lined  up  his  family  of  seven  giant-like 
sons  and  invited  his  caller  to  take  a look  at  them. 

“Ain’t  they  fine  boys?”  inquired  the  father. 

“They  are,”  agreed  the  visitor. 

“The  finest  in  the  world!”  exclaimed  the  father.  “An’  I 
nivver  laid  violent  hands  on  any  one  of  ’em  except  in  silf- 
difince.” — Popular  Magazine. 

See  also  Fighting;  Irish  bulls. 

IRREVERENCE 

There  were  three  young  women  of  Birmingham, 

And  I know  a sad  story  concerning  ’em : 

They  stuck  needles  and  pins 
In  'the  reverend  shins 
Of  the  Bishop  engaged  in  confirming  ’em. 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 


246 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


JAMES,  HENRY 

A few  years  ago  Henry  James  reviewed  a new  novel  by 
Gertrude  Atherton.  After  reading  the  review  Mrs.  Atherton 
wrote  to  Mr.  James  as  follows: 

“Dear  Mr.  James:  I have  read  with  much  pleasure  your  re- 
view of  my  novel.  Will  you  kindly  let  me  know  whether  you 
liked  it  or  not?  Sincerely, 

“Gertrude  Atherton.” 


JEWELS 

The  girl  with  the  ruby  lips  we  like, 

The  lass  with  teeth  of  pearl, 

The  maid  with  the  eyes  like  diamonds, 

The  cheek-like-coral  girl ; 

The  girl  with  the  alabaster  brow, 

The  lass  from  the  Emerald  Isle. 

All  these  we  like,  but  not  the  jade 
With  the  sardonyx  smile. 

JEWS 

What  is  the  difference  between  a banana  and  a Jew?  You 
can  skin  the  banana. 

He  was  quite  evidently  from  the  country  and  he  was  also 
quite  evidently  a Yankee,  and  from  behind  his  bowed  spec- 
tacles he  peered  inquisitively  at  the  little  oily  Jew  who  occu- 
pied the  other  half  of  the  car  seat  with  him. 

The  little  Jew  looked  at  him  deprecatingly.  “Nice  day,”  he 
began  politely. 

“You’re  a Jew,  ain’t  you?”  queried  the  Yankee. 

“Yes,  sir,  I’m  a clothing  salesman,”  handing  him  a card. 

“But  you’re  a Jew?” 

“Yes,  yes,  I’m  a Jew,”  came  the  answer. 

“Well,”  continued  the  Yankee,  “I’m  a Yankee,  and  in  the 
little  village  in  Maine  where  I come  from  I’m  proud  to  say 
there  ain’t  a Jew.” 

“Dot’s  why  it’s  a village,”  replied  the  little  Jew  quietly. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


247 


The  men  were  arguing  as  to  who  was  the  greatest  inventor. 
One  said  Stephenson,  who  invented  the  locomotive.  Another 
declared  it  was  the  man  who  invented  the  compass.  Another 
contended  for  Edison.  Still  another  for  the  Wrights, 

Finally  one  of  them  turned  to  a little  man  who  had  re- 
mained silent: 

“Who  do  you  think  ?” 

“Veil,”  he  said,  with  a hopeful  smile,  “the  man  who  invented 
interest  was  no  slouch.” 

Levinsky,  despairing  of  his  life,  made  an  appointment  with 
a famous  specialist.  He  was  surprised  to  find  fifteen  or  twen- 
ty people  in  the  waiting-room. 

After  a few  minutes  he  leaned  over  to  a gentleman  near 
him  and  whispered,  “Say,  mine  frient,  this  must  be  a pretty 
goot  doctor,  ain’t  he?” 

“One  of  the  best,”  the  gentleman  told  him. 

Levinsky  seemed  to  be  worrying  over  something. 

“Veil,  say,”  he  whispered  again,  “he  must  be  pretty  ex- 
bensive,  then,  ain’t  he?  Vat  does  he  charge?” 

The  stranger  was  annoyed  by  Levinsky’s  questions  and  an- 
swered rather  shortly:  “Fifty  dollars  for  the  first  consultation 
and  twenty-five  dollars  for  each  visit  thereafter.” 

“Mine  Gott!”  gasped  Levinsky.  “Fifty  tollars  the  first 
time  und  twenty-five  tollars  each  time  afterwards !” 

For  several  minutes  he  seemed  undecided  whether  to  go 
or  to  wait.  “Und  twenty-five  tollars  each  time  afterwards,” 
he  kept  muttering.  Finally,  just  as  he  was  called  into  the 
office,  he  was  seized  with  a brilliant  inspiration.  He  rushed 
toward  the  doctor  with  outstretched  hands. 

“Hello,  doctor,”  he  said  effusively.  “Veil,  here  I am  again.” 

The  Jews  are  among  the  aristocracy  of  every  land;  if  a 
literature  is  called  rich  in  the  possession  of  a few  classic 
tragedies  what  shall  we  say  to  a national  tragedy  lasting  for 
fifteen  hundred  years,  in  which  the  poets  and  the  actors  were 
also  the  heroes. — George  Eliot. 


See  also  Failures;  Fires. 


248 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


JOKES 

A nut  and  a joke  are  alike  in  that  they  can  both  be  cracked, 
and  different  in  that  the  joke  can  be  cracked  again. — William 
J.  Burtscher. 

Jokely — “I  got  a batch  of  aeroplane  jokes  ready  and  sent 
them  out  last  week.” 

Boggs — ‘‘What  luck  did  you  have  with  them?” 

Jokely — “Oh,  they  all  came  flying  back.”— Will  S.  Gidley. 

“I  ne’er  forget  a joke  I have 
Once  heard!”  Augustus  cried. 

“And  neither  do  you  let  your  friends 
Forget  it!”  Jane  replied. 

— Childe  Harold . 

A negro  bricklayer  in  Macon,  Georgia,  was  lying  down 
during  the  noon  hour,  sleeping  in  the  hot  sun.  The  clock 
struck  one,  the  time  to  pick  up  his  hod  again.  He  rose,  stretched, 
and  grumbled:  “I  wish  I wuz  daid.  ’Tain’  nothin’  but  wuk, 
wuk  from  mawnin’  tell  night.” 

Another  negro,  a story  above,  heard  the  complaint  and  drop- 
ped a brick  on  the  grumbler’s  head. 

Dazed  he  looked  up  and  said: 

“De  Lawd  can’  stan’  no  jokes.  He  jes’  takes  ev’ything  in 
yearnist.” 

The  late  H.  C.  Bunner,  when  editor  of  Puck,  once  received 
a letter  accompanying  a number  of  would-be  jokes  in  which 
the  writer  asked:  “What  will  you  give  me  for  these?” 

“Ten  yards  start,”  was  Bunner’s  generous  offer,  written  be- 
neath the  query. 

New  Congressman — “What  can  I do  for  you,  sir?” 

Salesman  (of  Statesmen’s  Anecdote  Manufacturing  Com- 
pany)— “I  shall  be  delighted  if  you’ll  place  an  order  for  a 
dozen  of  real,  live,  snappy,  humorous  anecdotes  as  told  by 
yourself,  sir.” 


T O A S T E R’S  HANDBOOK 


249 


Jokes  were  first  imported  to  this  country  several  hundred 
years  ago  from  Egypt,  Babylon  and  Assyria,  and  have  since 
then  grown  and  multiplied.  They  are  in  extensive  use  in  all 
parts  of  the  country  and  as  an  antidote  for  thought  are  in- 
dispensable at  all  dinner  parties. 

There  were  originally  twenty-five  jokes,  but  when  this  coun- 
try was  formed  they  added  a constitution,  which  increased  the 
number  to  twenty-six.  These  jokes  have  married  and  inter- 
married among  themselves  and  their  children  travel  from  press 
to  press. 

Frequently  in  one  week  a joke  will  travel  from  New  York 
to  San  Francisco. 

The  joke  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  Shameless  and  uncon- 
cerned, he  tells  the  story  of  his  life  over  and  over  again.  Out- 
side of  the  ballot-box  he  is  the  greatest  repeater  that  we  have. 

Jokes  are  of  three  kinds — plain,  illustrated  and  pointless. 
Frequently  they  are  all  three. 

No  joke  is  without  honor,  except  in  its  own  country.  Jokes 
form  one  of  our  staples  and  employ  an  army  of  workers  who 
toil  night  and  day  to  turn  out  the  often  neatly  finished  prod- 
uct. The  importation  of  jokes  while  considerable  is  not  as 
great  as  it  might  be,  as  the  flavor  is  lost  in  transit. 

Jokes  are  used  in  the  household  as  an  antiseptic.  As  scene- 
breakers  they  have  no  equal. — Life. 

Here’s  to  the  joke,  the  good  old  joke, 

The  joke  that  our  fathers  told; 

It  is  ready  tonight  and  is  jolly  and  bright 
As  it  was  in  the  days  of  old. 

When  Adam  was  young  it  was  on  his  tongue, 

And  Noah  got  in  the  swim 

By  telling  the  jest  as  the  brightest  and  best 
That  ever  happened  to  him. 

So  here’s  to  the  joke,  the  good  old  joke — 

We’ll  hear  it  again  tonight. 

It’s  health  we  will  quaff ; that  will  help  us  to  laugh, 
And  to  treat  it  in  manner  polite. 


— Lew  Dockstader. 


250 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


A jest’s  prosperity  lies  in  the  ear 
Of  him  that  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue 
Of  him  that  makes  it. 

— Shakespeare. 


JOURNALISM 

A Louisville  journalist  was  excessively  proud  of  his  little 
boy.  Turning  to  the  old  black  nurse,  “Aunty,”  said  he,  strok- 
ing the  little  pate,  “this  boy  seems  to  have  a journalistic  head.” 
“Oh,”  cried  the  untutored  old  aunty,  soothingly,  “never  you 
mind  ’bout  dat;  dat’ll  come  right  in  time.” 

John  R.  McLean,  owner  of  the  Cincinnati  Enquirer  and  the 
Washington  Post,  tells  this  story  of  the  days  when  he  was  ac- 
tively in  charge  of  the  Cincinnati  newspaper:  An  Enquirer  re- 
porter was  sent  to  a town  in  southwestern  Ohio  to  get  the 
story  of  a woman  evangelist  who  had  been  greatly  talked 
about.  The  reporter  attended  one  of  her  meetings  and  oc- 
cupied a front  seat.  When  those  who  wished  to  be  saved  were 
asked  to  arise,  he  kept  his  seat  and  used  his  notebook.  The 
evangelist  approached,  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  said,  “Come 
to  Jesus.” 

“Madam,”  said  the  newspaper  man,  “I’m  here  solely  on 
business — to  report  your  work.” 

“Brother,”  said  she,  “there  is  no  business  so  important  as 
God’s.” 

“Well,  may  be  not,”  said  the  reporter;  “but  you  don’t  know 
John  R.  McLean.” 

A newspaper  man  named  Fling 
Could  make  “copy”  from  any  old  thing. 

But  the  copy  he  wrote 
Of  a five  dollar  note 
Was  so  good  he  is  now  in  Sing  Sing. 

— Columbia  Jester. 


“Come  in,”  called  the  magazine  editor. 

“Sir,  I have  called  to  see  about  that  article  of  mine  that 
you  bought  two  years  ago.  My  name  is  Pensnink — Percival 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


251 


Perrhyn  Pensnink.  My  composition  was  called  ‘The  Behavior 
of  Chipmunks  in  Thunderstorms,’  and  I should  like  to  know 
how  much  longer  I must  watch  and  wait  before  I shall  see 
it  in  print.” 

“I  remember,”  the  editor  replied.  “We  are  saving  your 
little  essay  to  use  at  the  time  of  your  death.  When  public  at- 
tention is  drawn  to  an  author  we  like  to  have  something  of  his 
on  hand.” 


Hear,  land  o’  cakes,  and  brither  Scots, 

Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Johnny  Groat’s; 

If  there’s  a hole  in  a’  your  coats, 

I rede  you  tent  it: 

A chiel’s  amang  you  taking  notes, 

And,  faith,  he’ll  prent  it. 

— Burns. 


See  also  Newspapers. 


JUDGES 

A judge  once  had  a case  in  which  the  accused  man  under- 
stood only  Irish.  An  interpreter  was  accordingly  sworn.  The 
prisoner  said  something  to  the  interpreter. 

“What  does  he  say?”  demanded  his  lordship. 

“Nothing,  my  lord,”  was  the  reply. 

“How  dare  you  say  that  when  we  all  heard  him?  Come 
on,  sir,  what  was  it?” 

“My  lord,”  said  the  interpreter  beginning  to  tremble,  “it 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.” 

“If  you  don’t  answer  I’ll  commit  you,  sir!”  roared  the 
judge.  “Now,  what  did  he  say?” 

“Well,  my  lord,  you’ll  excuse  me,  but  he  said,  ‘Who’s  that 
old  woman  with  the  red  bed  curtain  round  her,  sitting  up 
there?” 

At  which  the  court  roared. 

“And  what  did  you  say?”  asked  the  judge,  looking  a little 
uncomfortable. 

“I  said : ‘Whist,  ye  spalpeen ! That’s  the  ould  boy  that’s 
going  to  hang  you.” 


252 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A gentleman  of  color  who  was  brought  before  a police 
judge,  on  a charge  of  stealing  chickens,  pleaded  guilty.  After 
sentencing  him,  the  judge  asked  how  he  had  managed  to  steal 
the  chickens  when  the  coop  was  so  near  the  owner’s  house 
and  there  was  a vicious  dog  in  the  yard. 

“Hit  wouldn’t  be  of  no  use,  Judge,”  answered  the  darky, 
“to  try  to  ’splain  dis  yer  thing  to  yo’  ’t  all.  Ef  yo’  was  to  try 
it,  like  as  not  yo’  would  get  yer  hide  full  o’  shot,  an’  get  no 
chicken,  nuther.  Ef  yo’  wants  to  engage  in  any  rascality,  Judge, 
yo’  better  stick  to  de  bench  whar  yo’  am  familiar.” — Mrs.  L. 
F.  Clarke. 

Four  things  belong  to  a judge:  to  hear  courteously,  to  an- 
swer wisely,  to  consider  soberly,  and  to  decide  impartially. 

— Socrates . 


JUDGMENT 

Husband — “But  you  must  admit  that  men  have  better  judg- 
ment than  women.” 

Wife — “Oh,  yes — you  married  me,  and  I you.” — Life. 
JURY 

In  the  south  of  Ireland  a judge  heard  his  usher  of  the 
court  say,  “Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  take  your  proper  places,” 
and  was  convulsed  with  laughter  at  seeing  seven  of  them  walk 
into  the  dock. 

There  was  recently  haled  into  an  Alabama  court  a little  Irish- 
man to  whom  the  thing  was  a new  experience.  He  was,  how- 
ever, unabashed,  and  wore  an  air  of  a man  determined  not  to 
“get  the  worst  of  it.” 

“Prisoner  at  the  bar,”  called  out  the  clerk,  “do  you  wish  to 
challenge  any  of  the  jury?” 

The  Celt  looked  the  men  in  the  box  over  very  carefully. 

“Well,  I tell  ye,”  he  finally  replied,  “Oi’m  not  exactly  in 
trainin’,  but  Oi  think  Oi  could  pull  off  a round  or  two  with  thot 
fat  old  boy  in  th’  corner.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


253 


JUSTICE 

There  are  two  sides  to  every  question — the  wrong  side  and 
our  side. 

“What,  Tommy,  in  the  jam  again,  and  you  whipped  for  it 
only  an  hour  ago !” 

Yes’m,  but  I heard  you  tell  Auntie  that  you  thought  you 
whipped  me  too  hard,  so  I thought  I’d  just  even  up.” 

One  man’s  word  is  no  man’s  word, 

Justice  is  that  both  be  heard. 

He  who  decides  a case  without  hearing  the  other  side,  though 
he  decide  justly  cannot  be  considered  just. — Seneca. 

JUVENILE  DELINQUENCY 

A woman  left  her  baby  in  its  carriage  at  the  door  of  a 
department-store.  A policeman  found  it  there,  apparently 
abandoned,  and  wheeled  it  to  the  station.  As  he  passed  down 
the  street  a gamin  yelled:  “What’s  the  kid  done?” 

KENTUCKY 

Kentucky  is  the  state  where  they  have  poor  feud  laws. 
KINDNESS 

Kindness  goes  a long  ways  lots  o’  times  when  it  ought  t’ 
stay  at  home. — Abe  Martin. 


An  old  couple  came  in  from  the  country,  with  a big  basket 
of  lunch,  to  see  the  circus.  The  lunch  was  heavy.  The  old 
wife  was  carrying  it.  As  they  crossed  a street,  the  husband 
held  out  his  hand  and  said,  “Gimme  that  basket,  Hannah.” 

The  poor  old  woman  surrendered  the  basket  with  a grate- 
ful look. 

“That’s  real  kind  o’  ye,  Joshua,”  she  quavered. 

“Kind!”  grunted  the  old  man.  “I  wuz  afeared  ye’d  git  lost.” 


254 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A fat  woman  entered  a crowded  street  car  and  seizing  a 
strap,  stood  directly  in  front  of  a man  seated  in  the  corner.  As 
the  car  started  she  lunged  against  his  newspaper  and  at  the 
same  time  trod  heavily  on  his  toes. 

As  soon  as  he  could  extricate  himself  he  rose  and  offered 
her  his  seat. 

“You  are  very  kind,  sir,”  she  said,  panting  for  breath. 

“Not  at  all,  madam,”  he  replied;  “it’s  not  kindness;  it’s 
simply  self-defense.” 

KINGS  AND  RULERS 

“I  think,”  said  the  heir  apparent,  “that  I will  add  music 
and  dancing  to  my  accomplishments.” 

“Aren’t  they  rather  light?” 

“They  may  seem  so  to  you,  but  they  will  be  very  handy  if 
a revolution  occurs  and  I have  to  go  into  vaudeville.” 

The  present  King  George  in  his  younger  days  visited  Can- 
ada in  company  with  the  Duke  of  Clarence.  One  night  at  a 
ball  in  Quebec,  given  in  honor  of  the  two  royalties,  the  young- 
er Prince  devoted  his  time  exclusively  to  the  young  ladies, 
paying  little  or  no  attention  to  the  elderly  ones  and  chaperons. 

His  brother  reprimanded  him,  pointing  out  to  him  his  so- 
cial position  and  his  duty  as  well. 

“That’s  all  right,”  said  the  young  Prince.  “There  are  two 
of  us.  You  go  and  sing  God  save  your  Grandmother,  while 
I dance  with  the  girls.” 

And  so  we  sing,  “Long  live  the  King; 

Long  live  the  Queen  and  Jack; 

Long  live  the  Ten-spot  and  the  Ace, 

And  also  all  the  pack.” 

— Eugene  Field. 

First  European  Society  Lady — “Wouldn’t  you  like  to  be 
presented  to  our  sovereign?” 

Second  E.  S.  L. — “No.  Simply  because  I have  to  be  gov- 
erned by  a man  is  no  reason  why  I should  condescend  to  meet 
him  socially.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


255 


One  afternoon  Kaiser  Wilhelm  caustically  reproved  old  Gen- 
eral Von  Meerscheidt  for  some  small  lapses. 

“If  your  Majesty  thinks  that  I am  too  old  for  the  service 
please  permit  me  to  resign,”  said  the  General. 

“No;  you  are  too  young  to  resign,”  said  the  Kaiser. 

In  the  evening  of  that  same  day,  at  a court  ball,  the  Kaiser 
saw  the  old  General  talking  to  some  young  ladies,  and  he 
said: 

“General,  take  a young  wife,  then  your  excitable  tempera- 
ment will  vanish.” 

“Excuse  me,  your  Majesty,”  replied  the  General.  “It  would 
kill  me  to  have  both  a young  wife  and  a young  Emperor.” 

During  the  war  of  1812,  a dinner  was  given  in  Canada,  at 
which  both  American  and  British  officers  were  present.  One 
of  the  latter  offered  the  toast:  “To  President  Madison,  dead 
or  alive!” 

An  American  offered  the  response:  “To  the  Prince  Regent, 
drunk  or  sober!”  — Mrs.  Gouverneur. 

A lady  of  Queen  Victoria’s  court  once  asked  her  if  she  did 
not  think  that  one  of  the  satisfactions  of  the  future  life  would 
be  the  meeting  with  the  notable  figures  of  the  past,  such  as 
Abraham,  Isaac  and  King  David.  After  a moment’s  silence, 
with  perfect  dignity  and  decision  the  great  Queen  made  an- 
swer: “I  will  not  meet  David!” 

Ten  poor  men  sleep  in  peace  on  one  straw  heap, 
as  Saadi  sings, 

But  the  immensest  empire  is  too  narrow  for 
two  kings. 

— William  R.  Alger. 

Here  lies  our  sovereign  lord,  the  king, 

Whose  word  no  man  relies  on, 

Who  never  said  a foolish  thing, 

And  never  did  a wise  one. 

Said  by  a courtier  of  Charles  II.  To  which  the  King  re- 
plied, “That  is  very  true,  for  my  words  are  my  own.  My 
actions  are  my  minister’s.” 


256 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


KISSES 

Here’s  to  a kiss : 

Give  me  a kiss,  and  to  that  kiss  add  a score, 

Then  to  that  twenty  add  a hundred  more; 

A thousand  to  that  hundred,  and  so  kiss  on, 

To  make  that  thousand  quite  a million, 

Treble  that  million,  and  when  that  is  done 
Let’s  kiss  afresh  as  though  we’d  just  begun. 

“If  I should  kiss  you  I suppose  you’d  go  and  tell  your 
mother.” 

“No;  my  lawyer.” 

“What  is  he  so  angry  with  you  for?” 

“I  haven’t  the  slightest  idea.  We  met  in  the  street,  and  we 
were  talking  just  as  friendly  as  could  be,  when  all  of  a sudden 
he  flared  up  and  tried  to  kick  me.” 

“And  what  were  you  talking  about?” 

“Oh,  just  ordinary  small  talk.  I remember  he  said,  T al- 
ways kiss  my  wife  three  or  four  times  every  day.’  ” 

“And  what  did  you  say?” 

“I  said,  ‘I  know  at  least  a dozen  men  who  do  the  same,’  and 
then  he  had  a fit.” 

There  was  an  old  maiden  from  Fife, 

Who  had  never  been  kissed  in  her  life; 

Along  came  a cat; 

And  she  said,  “I’ll  kiss  that!” 

But  the  cat  answered,  “Not  on  your  life!” 

Here’s  to  the  red  of  the  holly  berry, 

And  to  its  leaf  so  green; 

And  here’s  to  the  lips  that  are  just  as  red, 

And  the  fellow  who’s  not  so  green. 

There  was  a young  sailor  of  Lyd, 

Who  loved  a fair  Japanese  kid; 

When  it  came  to  good-bye, 

They  were  eager  but  shy, 

So  they  put  up  a sunshade  and — did. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


257 


There  once  was  a maiden  of  Siam, 

Who  said  to  her  lover;  young  Kiam, 

‘‘If  you  kiss  me,  of  course 
You  will  have  to  use  force, 

But  God  knows  you’re  stronger  than  I am.” 

Lord!  I wonder  what  fool  it  was  that  first  invented  kis- 
sing.— Swift. 

See  also  Courtship;  Servants. 

, KNOWLEDGE 

A physician  was  driving  through  a village  when  he  saw  a 
man  amusing  a crowd  with  the  antics  of  his  trick  dog.  The 
doctor  pulled  up  and  said:  “My  dear  man,  how  do  you  man- 
age to  train  your  dog  that  way?  I can’t  teach  mine  a single 
trick.” 

The  man  glanced  up  with  a simple  rustic  look  and  replied: 
“Well,  you  see,  it’s  this  way;  you  have  to  know  more’n  the 
dog  or  you  can’t  learn  him  nothin’.” 

With  knowledge  and  love  the  world  is  made. — Anatole 
France. 


KULTUR 

Herr  Hammerschlegel  (winding  up  the  argument) — “I  think 
you  iss  a stupid  fool !” 

Monsieur — “And  I sink  you  a polite  gentleman ; but  possible, 
is  it,  we  both  mistaken.” — Life. 

LABOR  AND  LABORING  CLASSES 

A farmer  in  great  need  of  extra  hands  at  haying  time 
finally  asked  Si  Warren,  who  was  accounted  the  town  fool,  if 
he  could  help  him  out. 

“What’ll  ye  pay?”  asked  Si. 

“I’ll  pay  you  what  you’re  worth,”  answered  the  farmer. 

Si  scratched  his  head  a minute,  then  answered  decisively: 

“I’ll  be  durned  if  I’ll  work  for  that !” 


258 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


LADIES 


See  Etiquet;  Woman. 


LANDLORDS 

An  English  tourist  was  sightseeing  in  Ireland  and  the  guide 
had  pointed  out  the  Devil’s  Gap,  the  Devil’s  Peak,  and  the 
Devil’s  Leap  to  him. 

“Pat,”  he  said,  “the  devil  seems  to  have  a great  deal  of  prop- 
erty in  this  district!” 

“He  has,  sir,”  replied  the  guide,  “but,  sure,  he’s  like  all  the 
landlords — he  lives  in  England!” 


LANGUAGES 

George  Ade,  with  a fellow  American,  was  traveling  in  the 
Orient,  and  his  companion  one  day  fell  into  a heated  argu- 
ment with  an  old  Arab.  Ade’s  friend  complained  to  him  af- 
terward that  although  he  had  spent  years  in  studying  Arabic 
in  preparation  for  this  trip  he  could  not  understand  a word 
that  the  native  said. 

“Never  mind,”  replied  Ade  consolingly.  “You  see,  the  old 
duffer  hasn’t  a tooth  in  his  head,  and  he  was  only  talking 
gum-Arabic.” 

Milton  was  one  day  asked  by  a friend  whether  he  would 
instruct  his  daughters  in  the  different  languages. 

“No,  sir,”  he  said;  “one  tongue  is  sufficient  for  any 
woman.” 

Prince  Bismarck  was  once  pressed  by  a certain  American 
official  to  recommend  his  son  for  a diplomatic  post.  “He  is  a 
very  remarkable  fellow,”  said  the  proud  father;  “he  speaks 
seven  languages.” 

“Indeed!”  said  Bismarck,  who  did  not  hold  a very  high 
opinion  of  linguistic  acquirements.  “What  a wonderful  head- 
waiter  he  would  make!” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


259 


LAUGHTER 

Teacher — “Freddie,  you  musn’t  laugh  out  loud  in  the  school- 
room.” 

Freddie — “I  didn’t  mean  to  do  it.  I was  smiling,  and  the 
smile  busted.” 

Laugh  and  the  world  laughs  with  you, 

Weep,  and  the  laugh’s  on  you. 

About  the  best  and  finest  thing  in  this  world  is  laughter. 

— Anna  Alice  Chapin. 


LAW 


See  Punishment. 

LAWYERS 

Ignorance  of  the  law  does  not  prevent  the  losing  lawyer 
from  collecting  his  bill. — Puck. 

George  Ade  had  finished  his  speech  at  a recent  dinner-party, 
and  on  seating  himself  a well-known  lawyer  rose,  shoved  his 
hands  deep  into  his  trousers’  pockets,  as  was  his  habit  and 
laughingly  inquired  of  those  present: 

“Doesn’t  it  strike  the  company  as  a little  unusual  that  a 
professional  humorist  should  be  funny?” 

When  the  laugh  had  subsided,  Ade  drawled  out : 

“Doesn’t  it  strike  the  company  as  a little  unusual  that  a 
lawyer  should  have  his  hands  in  his  own  pockets?” 

A man  was  charged  with  stealing  a horse,  and  after  a 
long  trial  the  jury  acquitted  him.  Later  in  the  day  the  man 
came  back  and  asked  the  judge  for  a warrant  against  the  law- 
yer who  had  successfully  defended  him. 

“What’s  the  charge?”  inquired  the  judge. 

“Why,  Your  Honor,”  replied  the  man,  “you  see,  I didn’t 
have  the  money  to  pay  him  his  fee,  so  he  took  the  horse  I 
stole.” — /.  J.  O’Connell. 


26o 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


An  elderly  darky  in  Georgia,  charged  with  the  theft  of  some 
chickens,  had  the  misfortune  to  be  defended  by  a young  and 
inexperienced  attorney,  although  it  is  doubtful  whether  anyone 
could  have  secured  his  acquittal,  the  commission  of  the  crime 
having  been  proved  beyond  all  doubt. 

The  darky  received  a pretty  severe  sentence.  “Thank  you, 
sah,”  said  he  cheerfully,  addressing  the  judge  when  the  sen- 
tence had  been  pronounced.  “Dat’s  mighty  hard,  sah,  but  it 
ain’t  anywhere  what  I ’spected.  I thought,  sah,  dat  between 
my  character  and  dat  speech  of  my  lawyer  dat  you’d  hang  me, 
shore!” 


“You  have  a pretty  tough  looking  lot  of  customers  to  dis- 
pose of  this  morning,  haven’t  you?”  remarked  the  friend  of 
a magistrate,  who  had  dropped  in  at  the  police  court. 

“Huh!”  rejoined  the  dispenser  of  justice,  “you  are  looking 
at  the  wrong  bunch.  Those  are  the  lawyers.” 


“Did  youse  git  anyt’ing?”  whispered  the  burglar  on  guard 
as  his  pal  emerged  from  the  window. 

“Naw,  de  bloke  wot  lives  here  is  a lawyer,”  replied  the 
other  in  disgust. 

“Dat’s  hard  luck,”  said  the  first;  “did  youse  lose  anyt’ing?” 


The  dean  of  the  Law  Department  was  very  busy  and  rather 
cross.  The  telephone  rang. 

“Well,  what  is  it?”  he  snapped. 

“Is  that  the  city  gas-works?”  said  a woman’s  soft  voice. 

“No,  madam,”  roared  the  dean;  “this  is  the  University  Law 
Department.” 

“Ah,”  she  answered  in  the  sweetest  of  tones,  “I  didn’t  miss 
it  so  far,  after  all,  did  I?” — Carl  Holliday. 

A lawyer  cross-examining  a witness,  asked  him  where  he  was 
on  a particular  day;  to  which  he  replied  that  he  had  been  in 
the  company  of  two  friends.  “Friends!”  exclaimed  his  tor- 
mentor; “two  thieves,  I suppose.”  “They  may  be  so,”  re- 
plied the  witness,  dryly,  Tor  they  are  both  lawyers.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


261 

An  impecunious  young  lawyer  recently  received  the  follow- 
ing letter  from  a tailor  to  whom  he  was  indebted: 

“Dear  Sir:  Kindly  advise  me  by  return  mail  when  I may 
expect  a remittance  from  you  in  settlement  of  my  account 

Yours  truly, 

J.  Snippen.” 

The  follower  of  Blackstone  immediately  replied: 

“Dear  Sir:  I have  your  request  for  advice  of  a recent  date, 
and  beg  leave  to  say  that  not  having  received  any  retainer 
from  you  I cannot  act  in  the  premises.  Upon  receipt  of  your 
check  for  $250  I shall  be  very  glad  to  look  the  matter  up  for 
you  and  to  acquaint  you  with  the  results  of  my  investigations. 
I am,  sir,  with  great  respect,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

“Barclay  B.  Coke.” 

A prisoner  was  brought  before  the  bar  in  the  criminal  court, 
but  was  not  represented  by  a lawyer. 

“Where  is  your  lawyer?”  asked  the  judge  who  presided. 

“I  have  none,  sir,”  replied  the  prisoner. 

“Why  not?”  queried  the  judge. 

“Because  I have  no  money  to  pay  one.” 

“Do  you  want  a lawyer?”  asked  the  judge. 

“Yes,  sir.” 

“Well,  there  are  Mr.  Thomas  W.  Wilson,  Mr.  Henry  Eddy, 
and  Mr.  George  Rogers,”  said  the  judge,  pointing  to  several 
young  attorneys  who  were  sitting  in  the  room,  waiting  for 
something  to  turn  up,  “and  Mr.  Allen  is  out  in  the  hall.” 

The  prisoner  looked  at  the  attorneys,  and,  after  a critical 
survey,  he  turned  to  the  judge  and  said: 

“If  I can  take  my  choice,  sir,  I guess  I’ll  take  Mr.  Allen.” 

— A.  S.  Hitchcock. 

“What  is  that  little  boy  crying  about?”  asked  the  benevolent 
old  lady  of  the  ragged  boy. 

“Dat  other  kid^swiped  his  candy,”  was  the  response. 

“But  how  is  it  that  you  have  the  candy  now?” 

“Sure  I got  de  candy  now.  I’m  de  little  kid’s  lawyer.” 

A man  walking  along  the  street  of  a village  stepped  into  a 
hole  in  the  sidewalk  and  broke  his  leg.  He  engaged  a famous 


262 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


lawyer,  brought  suit  against  the  village  for  one  thousand  dollars 
and  won  the  case.  The  city  appealed  to  the  Supreme  Court, 
but  again  the  great  lawyer  won. 

After  the  claim  was  settled  the  lawyer  sent  for  his  client 
and  handed  him  one  dollar. 

“What’s  this?”  asked  the  man. 

“That’s  your  damages,  after  taking  out  my  fee,  the  cost 
of  appeal  and  other  expenses,”  replied  the  counsel. 

The  man  looked  at  the  dollar,  turned  it  over  and  carefully 
scanned  the  other  side.  Then  looked  up  at  the  lawyer  and 
said:  “What’s  the  matter  with  this  dollar?  Is  it  counterfeit?” 

Deceive  not  thy  Physician,  Confessor  nor  Lawyer. 

A Sergeant  of  the  Lawe,  war  and  wys 
Ther  was  also,  ful  riche  of  excellence. 

Discreet  he  was,  and  of  greet  reverence : 

He  seemed  swich,  his  wordes  weren  so  wyse. 

* * * 

No-wher  so  bisy  a man  as  he  ther  nas, 

And  yet  he  seemed  bisier  than  he  was. 

— Chaucer. 


LAZINESS 

A tourist  in  the  mountains  of  Tennessee  once  had  dinner 
with  a querulous  old  mountaineer  who  yarned  about  hard  times 
for  fifteen  minutes  at  a stretch. 

“Why,  man,”  said  the  tourist,  “you  ought  to  be  able  to 
make  lots  of  money  shipping  green  corn  to  the  northern  mar- 
ket.” 

“Yes,  I orter,”  was  the  sullen  reply. 

“You  have  the  land,  I suppose,  and  can  get  the  seed.” 

“Yes,  I guess  so.” 

“Then  why  don’t  you  go  into  the  speculation?” 

“No  use,  stranger,”  sadly  replied  the  cracker,  “the  old 
woman  is  too  lazy  to  do  the  plowin’  and  plantin’.” 

While  the  train  was  waiting  on  a side  track  down  in  Geor- 
gia, one  of  the  passengers  walked  over  to  a cabin  near  the 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


263 


track,  in  front  of  which  sat  a cracker  dog,  howling.  The  pas- 
senger asked  a native  why  the  dog  was  howling. 
“Hookworm,”  said  the  native.  ‘‘He’s  lazy.” 

“But,”  said  the  stranger,  “I  was  not  aware  that  the  hook- 
worm is  painful.” 

’Taint,”  responded  the  garrulous  native. 

“Why,  then,”  the  stranger  queried,  “should  the  dog  howl?” 
“Lazy.” 

“But  why  does  laziness  make  him  howl?” 

“Wal,”  said  the  Georgian,  “that  blame  fool  dawg  is  sittin’  on 
a sand-bur,  an’  he’s  too  tarnation  lazy  to  get  off,  so  he  jes’ 
sets  thar  an’  howls  ’cause  it  hurts.” 

“How’s  times?”  inquired  a tourist. 

“Oh,  pretty  tolerable,”  responded  the  old  native  who  was 
sitting  on  a stump.  “I  had  some  trees  to  cut  down,  but  a 
cyclone  come  along  and  saved  me  the  trouble.” 

“Fine.” 

“Yes,  and  then  the  lightning  set  fire  to  the  brush  pile  and 
saved  me  the  trouble  of  burnin’  it.” 

“Remarkable.  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  now?” 

“Oh,  nothin’  much.  Jest  waitin’  for  an  earthquake  to  come 
along  and  shake  the  potatoes  out  of  the  ground.” 

A tramp,  after  a day  or  two  in  the  hustling,  bustling  town 
of  Denver,  shook  the  Denver  dust  from  his  boots  with  a snarl. 

“They  must  be  durn  lazy  people  in  this  town.  Everywhere 
you  turn  they  offer  you  work  to  do.” 

An  Atlanta  man  tells  of  an  amusing  experience  he  had 
in  a mountainous  region  in  a southwestern  state,  where  the 
inhabitants  are  notoriously  shiftless.  Arriving  at  a dilapidated 
shanty  at  the  noon  hour,  he  inquired  as  to  the  prospects  for 
getting  dinner. 

The  head  of  the  family,  who  had  been  “resting”  on  a 
fallen  tree  in  front  of  his  dwelling,  made  reply  to  the  effect 
that  he  “guessed  Ma’d  hev  suthin’  on  to  the  table  putty  soon.” 
With  this  encouragement,  the  traveler  dismounted.  To  his 
chagrin,  however,  he  soon  discovered  that  the  food  set  before 
him  was  such  that  he  could  not  possibly  “make  a meal.”  He 


264 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


made  such  excuses  as  he  could  for  his  lack  of  appetite,  and 
finally  bethought  himself  of  a kind  of  nourishment  which  he 
might  venture  to  take,  and  which  was  sure  to  be  found  in  any 
locality.  He  asked  for  some  milk. 

“Don’t  have  milk  no  more,”  said  the  head  of  the  .place. 
“The  dawg’s  dead.” 

“The  dog!”  cried  the  stranger.  “What  on  earth  has  the 
dog  to  do  with  it?” 

“Well,”  explained  the  host  meditatively,  “them  cows  don’t 
seem  to  know  ’nough  to  come  up  and  be  milked  theirselves. 
The  dog,  he  used  to  go  for  ’em  an’  fetch  ’em  up.” 

— Edwin  Tarrisse. 

Some  temptations  come  to  the  industrious,  but  all  tempta- 
tions attack  the  idle. — Spurgeon . 

LEAP  YEAR 

A girl  looked  calmly  at  a caller  one  evening  and  remarked: 

“George,  as  it  is  leap  year ” 

The  caller  turned  pale. 

“As  it  is  leap  year,”  she  continued,  “and  you’ve  been  calling 
regularly  now  four  nights  a week  for  a long,  long  time,  George, 
I propose ” 

“I’m  not  in  a position  to  marry  on  my  salary  Grace  ” George 
interrupted  hurriedly. 

“I  know  that,  George,”  the  girl  pursued,  “and  so,  as  it  is 
leap  year,  I thought  I’d  propose  that  you  lay  off  and  give  some 
of  the  more  eligible  fellows  a chance.” — L.  F.  Clarke. 

LEGISLATORS 

Thomas  B.  Reed  was  one  of  the  Legislative  Committee  sent 
to  inspect  an  insane  asylum.  There  was  a dance  on  the  night 
the  committee  spent  in  the  investigation,  and  Mr.  Reed  took 
for  a partner  one  of  the  fair  unfortunates  to  whom  he  was  in- 
troduced. “I  don’t  remember  having  seen  you  here  before,” 
said  she;  “how  long  have  you  been  in  the  asylum?”  “Oh,  I 
only  came  down  yesterday,”  said  the  gentleman,  “as  one  of 
the  Legislative  Committee.”  “Of  course,”  returned  the  lady; 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


265 


“how  stupid  I am ! However,  I knew  you  were  an  inmate  or 
a member  of  the  Legislature  the  moment  I looked  at  you.  But 
how  was  I to  know?  It  is  so  difficult  to  know  which.” 


LIARS 

There  are  three  kinds  of  liars: 

1.  The  man  whom  others  can’t  believe.  He  is  harmless. 
Let  him  alone. 

2.  The  man  who  can’t  believe  others.  He  has  probably 
made  a careful  study  of  human  nature.  If  you  don’t  put  him 
in  jail,  he  will  find  out  that  you  are  a hypocrite. 

3.  The  man  who  can’t  believe  himself.  He  is  a cautious 
individual.  Encourage  him. 

Two  Irishmen  were  working  on  the  roof  of  a building  one 
day  when  one  made  a misstep  and  fell  to  the  ground.  The 
other  leaned  over  and  called: 

“Are  yez  dead  or  alive,  Mike?” 

“Oi’m  alive,”  said  Mike  feebly. 

“Sure  you’re  such  a liar  Oi  don’t  know  whether  to  belave 
yez  or  not.” 

“Well,  then,  Oi  must  be  dead,”  said  Mike,  “for  yez  would 
never  dare  to  call  me  a liar  if  Oi  wor  aloive.” 

Father  (reprovingly) — “Do  you  know  what  happens  to  liars 
when  they  die?” 

Johnny — “Yes,  sir;  they  lie  still.” 

A private,  anxious  to  secure  leave  of  absence,  sought  his 
captain  with  a most  convincing  tale  about  a sick  wife  breaking 
her  heart  for  his  absence.  The  officer,  familiar  with  the 
soldier’s  ways,  replied : 

“I  am  afraid  you  are  not  telling  the  truth.  I have  just 
received  a letter  from  your  wife  urging  me  not  to  let  you 
come  home  because  you  get  drunk,  break  the  furniture,  and 
mistreat  her  shamefully.” 

The  private  saluted  and  started  to  leave  the  room.  He 
paused  at  the  door,  asking:  “Sor,  may  I speak  to  you,  not  as 
an  officer,  but  as  mon  to  mon?” 


266 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Yes;  what  is  it?” 

“Well,  sor,  what  I'm  after  sayin’  is  this,”  approaching  the 
captain  and  lowering  his  voice.  “You  and  I are  two  of  the 
most  iligant  liars  the  Lord  ever  made.  I’m  not  married  at  all.” 


A conductor  and  a brakeman  on  a Montana  railroad  differ 
as  to  the  proper  pronunciation  of  the  name  Eurelia.  Passen- 
gers are  often  startled  upon  arrival  at  his  station  to  hear  the 
conductor  yell: 

“You’re  a liar!  You’re  a liar!” 

And  then  from  the  brakeman  at  the  other  end  of  the  car: 

“You  really  are!  You  really  are!” 


Mother — “Oh,  Bobby,  I’m  ashamed  of  you.  I never  told 
stories  when  I was  a little  girl.” 

Bobby — “When  did  you  begin,  then,  Mamma?” 

— Horace  Zimmerman. 

The  sages  of  the  general  store  were  discussing  the  veracity 
of  old  Si  Perkins  when  Uncle  Bill  Abbott  ambled  in. 

“What  do  you  think  about  it,  Uncle  Bill?”  they  asked  him. 
“Would  you  call  Si  Perkins  a liar?” 

“Well,”  answered  Uncle  Bill  slowly,  as  he  thoughtfully  studied 
the  ceiling,  “I  don’t  know  as  I’d  go  so  far  as  to  call  him  a 
liar  exactly,  but  I do  know  this  much : when  feedin’  time 
comes,  in  order  to  get  any  response  from  his  hogs,  he  has  to 
get  somebody  else  to  call  ’em  for  him.” 


A lie  is  an  abomination  unto  the  Lord  and  an  ever  present 
help  in  time  of  trouble. 

An  Idaho  guide  whose  services  were  retained  by  some  wealthy 
young  easterners  desirous  of  hunting  in  the  Northwest  evi- 
dently took  them  to  be  the  greenest  of  tenderfoots,  since  he 
undertook  to  chaff  them  with  a recital  something  as  follows : 
“It  was  my  first  grizzly,  so  I was  mighty  proud  to  kill  him 
in  a hand-to-hand  struggle.  We  started  to  fight  about  sunrise. 
When  he  finally  gave  up  the  ghost,  the  sun  was  going  down.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


267 


At  this  point  the  guide  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  his  story. 
Not  a word  was  said  by  the  easterners,  so  the  guide  added  very 
slowly,  “for  the  second  time.” 

“I  gather,  then,”  said  one  young  gentleman,  a dapper  little 
Bostonian,  “that  it  required  a period  of  two  days  to  enable  you 
to  dispose  of  that  grizzly.” 

“Two  days  and  a night,”  said  the  guide,  with  a grin.  “That 
grizzly  died  mighty  hard.” 

“Choked  to  death?”  asked  the  Bostonian. 

“Yes,  sir”  said  the  guide. 

“Pardon  me,”  continued  the  Hubbite,  “but  what  did  you 
try  to  get  him  to  swallow?” 

When  by  night  the  frogs  are  croaking, 

Kindle  but  a torch’s  fire; 

Ha ! how  soon  they  all  are  silent ; 

Thus  Truth  silences  the  liar. 

— Friedrich  von  Logan. 

See  also  Epitaphs;  Husbands;  Politicians;  Real  estate 
agents ; Regrets. 


LIBERTY 

Liberty  is  being  free  from  the  things  we  don’t  like  in  order 
to  be  slaves  of  the  things  we  do  like. 

A day,  an  hour,  of  virtuous  liberty 
Is  worth  a whole  eternity  in  bondage. 

— Addison. 

Where  liberty  dwells,  there  is  my  country. — Benjamin  Frank- 
lin. 


LIBRARIANS 

A country  newspaper  printed  the  following  announcement: 
“The  Public  Library  will  close  for  two  weeks,  beginning  Au- 
gust 3,  for  the  annual  cleaning  and  vacation  of  the  librarians.” 


268 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  modern  librarian  is  a genius.  All  the  proof  needed  is  the 
statement  that  the  requests  for  books  with  queer  titles  are  filled 
with  ones  really  wanted.  The  following  are  instances: 


AS  ASKED  FOR 

Indecent  Orders 
She  Comheth  Not  Her  Head 
Trial  of  a Servant 
Essays  of  a Liar 
Soap  and  Tables 
Pocketbook's  Hill 
Dentist's  Infirmary 
Holy  Smoke 


CORRECT  TITLE 

In  Deacon's  Orders 
She  Cometh  Not , She  Said 
Trail  of  the  Serpent 
Essays  of  Elia 
AEsop's  Fables 
Puck  of  Pook's  Hill 
Dante's  Inferno 
Divine  Fire 


One  librarian  has  the  following  entries  in  a card  catalog: 
Lead  Poisoning 
Do,  Kindly  Light. 

A distinguished  librarian  is  a good  follower  of  Chesterton. 
He  says:  “To  my  way  of  thinking,  a great  librarian  must  have 
a clear  head,  a strong  hand  and,  above  all,  a great  heart.  Such 
shall  be  greatest  among  librarians;  and  when  I look  into  the 
future,  I am  inclined  to  think  that  most  of  the  men  who  will 
achieve  this  greatness  will  be  women.” 


Many  catalogers  append  notes  to  the  main  entries  of  their 
catalogs.  Here  are  two: 

An  Ideal  Husband : 

Essentially  a work  of  fiction, 
and  presumably  written  by  a 
woman  (unmarried). 

Aspects  of  Home  Rule : 

Political,  not  domestic. 

In  a branch  library  a reader  asked  for  The  Girl  He  Married 
(by  James  Grant.)  This  happened  to  be  out,  and  the  assistant 
was  requested  to  select  a similar  book.  Presumably  he  was  a 
benedict,  for  he  returned  triumphantly  with  His  Better  Half  (by 
George  Griffith). 

“Have  you  A Joy  Forever?"  inquired  a lady  borrower. 

“No,”  replied  the  assistant  librarian  after  referring  to  the 
stock. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


269 


“Dear  me,  how  tiresome,”  said  the  lady;  “have  you  Praed?” 
“Yes,  madam,  but  it  isn’t  any  good,”  was  the  prompt  reply. 

LIFE 

Life’s  an  aquatic  meet — some  swim,  some  dive,  some  back 
water,  some  float  and  the  rest — sink. 

I count  life  just  a stuff 
To  try  the  soul’s  strength  on. 

— Robert  Browning. 

May  you  live  as  long  as  you  like, 

And  have  what  you  like  as  long  as  you  live. 

“Live,  while  you  live,”  the  epicure  would  say, 

“And  seize  the  pleasures  of  the  present  day;” 

“Live,  while  you  live,”  the  sacred  Preacher  cries, 
“And  give  to  God  each  moment  as  it  flies.” 

“Lord,  in  my  views  let  both  united  be; 

I live  in  pleasure , when  I live  to  Thee.” 

— Philip  Doddridge. 

This  world  that  we’re  a-livin’  in 
Is  mighty  hard  to  beat, 

For  you  get  a thorn  with  every  rose — 

But  ain’t  the  roses  sweet! 

Dost  thou  love  life?  Then  do  not  squander  time,  for  that 
is  the  stuff  life  is  made  of. — Benjamin  Franklin. 

LISPING 

“Have  you  lost  another  tooth,  Bethesda?”  asked  auntie,  who 
noticed  an  unusual  lisp. 

“Yes’m,”  replied  the  four-year-old,  “and  I limp  now  when 
I talk.” 

LOST  AND  FOUND 

“ I ain’t  losing  any  faith  in  human  nature,”  said  Uncle  Eben, 
“but  I kain’t  he’p  noticin’  dat  dere’s  alius  a heap  mo’  ahticles 
advertised  ‘Lost’  dan  dar  is  ‘Found.’  ” 


270 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“What  were  you  in  for?”  asked  the  friend. 

“I  found  a horse.” 

“Found  a horse?  Nonsense!  They  wouldn’t  jug  you  for 
finding  a horse.” 

“Well,  but  you  see  I found  him  before  the  owner  lost  him.” 

\ “Party  that  lost  purse  containing  twenty  dollars  need  worry 
1 no  longer — it  has  been  found.” — Brooklyn  Life . 

A lawyer  having  offices  in  a large  office  building  recently  lost 
a cuff-link,  one  of  a pair  that  he  greatly  prized.  Being  ab- 
solutely certain  that  he  had  dropped  the  link  somewhere  in 
the  building  he  posted  this  notice : 

“Lost.  A gold  cuff-link.  The  owner,  William  Ward,  will 
deeply  appreciate  its  immediate  return.” 

That  afternoon,  on  passing  the  door  whereon  this  notice 
was  posted,  what  were  the  feelings  of  the  lawyer  to  observe 
that  appended  thereto  were  these  lines : 

“The  finder  of  the  missing  cuff-link  would  deem  it  a great 
favor  if  the  owner  would  kindly  lose  the  other  link.” 

Chinaman — “You  tellee  me  where  railroad  depot?” 

Citizen — “What’s  the  matter,  John?  Lost?” 

Chinaman — “No!  me  here.  Depot  lost.” 

LOVE 

Love  is  an  insane  desire  on  the  part  of  a chump  to  pay  a 
woman’s  board-bill  for  life. 

Mr.  Slimpurse — “But  why  do  you  insist  that  our  daughter 
should  marry  a man  whom  she  does  not  like?  You  married 
for  love,  didn’t  you?” 

Mrs.  Slimpurse — “Yes;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  I should 
let  our  daughter  make  the  same  blunder.” 

Maude — “Jack  is  telling  around  that  you  are  worth  your 
weight  in  gold.” 

Ethel — 'The  foolish  boy.  Who  is  he  telling  it  to?” 

Maude — “His  creditors.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


271 


Rich  Man — “Would  you  love  my  daughter  just  as  much 
if  she  had  no  money?” 

Suitor — “Why,  certainly !” 

Rich  Man — “That’s  sufficient.  I don’t  want  any  idiots  in 
this  family.” 


’Tis  better  to  have  lived  and  loved 
Than  never  to  have  lived  at  all. 

— Judge. 

May  we  have  those  in  our  arms  that  we  love  in  our  hearts. 

Here’s  to  love,  the  only  fire  against  which  there  is  no  in- 
surance. 


Here’s  to  those  that  I love; 

Here’s  to  those  who  love  me; 

Here’s  to  those  who  love  those  that  I love. 

Here’s  to  those  who  love  those  who  love  me. 

\ 

It  is  best  to  love  wisely,  no  doubt;  but  to  love  foolishly 
is  better  than  not  to  be  able  to  love  at  all. — Thackeray. 


Mysterious  love,  uncertain  treasure, 

Hast  thou  more  of  pain  or  pleasure! 

Endless  torments  dwell  about  thee: 

Yet  who  would  live,  and  live  without  thee! 

— Addison. 

O,  love,  love,  love! 

Love  is  like  a dizziness; 

It  winna  let  a poor  body 
Gang  about  his  biziness ! 

— Hogg . 


Let  the  man  who  does  not  wish  to  be  idle,  fall  in  love. 

— Ovid. 


272 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


LOYALTY 

Jenkins,  a newly  wedded  suburbanite,  kissed  his  wife  good- 
by  the  other  morning,  and,  telling  her  he  would  be  home  at 
six  o’clock  that  evening,  got  into  his  auto  and  started  for  town. 

At  six  o’clock  no  hubby  had  appeared,  and  the  little  wife 
began  to  get  nervous.  When  the  hour  of  midnight  arrived  she 
could  bear  the  suspense  no  longer,  so  she  aroused  her  father 
and  sent  him  off  to  the  telegraph  office  with  six  telegrams  to 
as  many  brother  Elks  living  in  town,  asking  each  if  her  husband 
was  stopping  with  him  overnight. 

Morning  came,  and  the  frantic  wife  had  received  no  intelli- 
gence of  the  missing  man.  As  dawn  appeared,  a farm  wagon 
containing  a farmer  and  the  derelict  husband  drove  up  to  the 
house,  while  behind  the  wagon  trailed  the  broken-down  auto. 
Almost  simultaneously  came  a messenger  boy  with  an  answer 
to  one  of  the  telegrams,  followed  at  intervals  by  five  others. 
All  of  them  read: 

“Yes,  John  is  spending  the  night  with  me.” — Bush  Phillips. 

Boy — “Come  quick,  there’s  a man  been  fighting  my  father 
more’n  half  an  hour.” 

Policeman — “Why  didn’t  you  tell  me  before?” 

Boy — “ ’Cause  father  was  getting  the  best  of  it  till  a few 
minutes  ago.” 


LUCK 

Some  people  are  so  fond  of  ill-luck  that  they  run  half-way 
to  meet  it. — Douglas  Jerrold. 

O,  once  in  each  man’s  life,  at  least, 

Good  luck  knocks  at  his  door; 

And  wit  to  seize  the  flitting  guest 
Need  never  hunger  more. 

But  while  the  loitering  idler  waits 
Good  luck  beside  his  fire, 

The  bold  heart  storms  at  fortunes  gates, 

And  conquers  its  desire. 


— Lewis  J.  Bates. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


273 


“Tommy,”  said  his  brother,  “you’re  a regular  little  glutton. 
How  can  you  eat  so  much?” 

“Don’t  know;  it’s  just  good  luck,”  replied  the  youngster. 

A negro  who  was  having  one  misfortune  after  another  said 
he  was  having  as  bad  luck  as  the  man  with  only  a fork  when 
it  was  raining  soup. 

See  also  Windfalls. 


MAINE 

The  Governor  of  Maine  was  at  the  school  and  was  telling 
the  pupils  what  the  people  of  different  states  were  called. 

“Now,”  he  said,  “the  people  from  Indiana  are  called  ‘Hoo- 
siers’;  the  people  from  North  Carolina  ‘Tar  Heels’;  the  peo- 
ple from  Michigan  we  know  as  ‘Michiganders.’  Now,  what 
little  boy  or  girl  can  tell  me  what  the  people  of  Maine  are 
called?” 

“I  know,”  said  a little  girl. 

“Well,  what  are  we  called?”  asked  the  Governor. 

“Maniacs.” 


MAKING  GOOD 

“What’s  become  ob  dat  little  chameleon  Mandy  had?”  in- 
quired Rufus. 

“Oh,  de  fool  chile  done  lost  him,”  replied  Zeke.  “She 
wuz  playin’  wif  him  one  day,  puttin’  him  on  red  to  see  him 
turn  red,  an’  on  blue  to  see  him  turn  blue,  an’  on  green  tc 
see  him  turn  green,  an’  so  on.  Den  de  fool  gal,  not  satis- 
fied wif  lettin’  well  enough  alone,  went  an’  put  him  on  a plaid, 
an’  de  poor  little  thing  went  an’  bust  himself  tryin’  to  make 
good.” 

See  also  Success. 

MALARIA 

The  physician  had  taken  his  patient’s  pulse  and  temperature, 
and  proceeded  to  ask  the  usual  questions. 


274 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“It — er — seems,”  said  he,  regarding  the  unfortunate  with 
scientific  interest,  “that  the  attacks  of  fever  and  the  chills  ap- 
pear on  alternate  days.  Do  you  think — is  it  your  opinion — that 
they  have,  so  to  speak,  decreased  in  violence,  if  I may  use  that 
word?” 

The  patient  smiled  feebly.  “Doc,”  said  he,  “on  fever  days  my 
head’s  so  hot  I can’t  think,  and  on  ague  days  I shake  so  I can’t 
hold  an  opinion.” 


MARKS  (WO)  MANSHIP 

An  Irishman  who,  with  his  wife,  is  employed  on  a truck- 
farm  in  New  Jersey,  recently  found  himself  in  a bad  predica- 
ment, when,  in  attempting  to  evade  the  onslaughts  of  a savage 
dog,  assistance  came  in  the  shape  of  his  wife. 

When  the  woman  came  up,  the  dog  had  fastened  his  teeth 
in  the  calf  of  her  husband’s  leg  and  was  holding  on  for  dear 
life.  Seizing  a stone  in  the  road,  the  Irishman’s  wife  was 
about  to  hurl  it,  when  the  husband,  with  wonderful  presence 
of  mind,  shouted: 

“Mary!  Mary!  Don’t  throw  the  stone  at  the  dog!  throw 
it  at  me!” 


Mary  had  a little  lamb, 

It’s  fleece  was  gone  in  spots, 

For  Mary  fired  her  father’s  gun, 

And  lamby  caught  the  shots! 

— Columbia  Jester . 


MARRIAGE 

Mrs.  Quackenness — “Am  yo’  daughtar  happily  mar’d,  Sis- 
tah  Sagg?” 

Mrs.  Sagg — “She  sho’  is ! Bless  goodness  she’s  done  got  a 
husband  dat’s  skeered  to  death  of  her!” 

“Where  am  I?”  the  invalid  exclaimed,  waking  from  the  long 
delirium  of  fever  and  feeling  the  comfort  that  loving  hands 
had  supplied.  “Where  am  I — in  heaven?” 

“No,  dear,”  cooed  his  wife;  “I  am  still  with  you.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


275 


Archbishop  Ryan  was  visiting  a small  parish  in  a mining 
district  one  day  for  the  purpose  of  administering  confirmation, 
and  asked  one  nervous  little  girl  what  matrimony  is. 

“It  is  a state  of  terrible  torment  which  those  who  enter 
are  compelled  to  undergo  for  a time  to  prepare  them  for  a 
brighter  and  better  world,”  she  said. 

“No,  no,”  remonstrated  her  rector;  “that  isn’t  matrimony: 
that’s  the  definition  of  purgatory.” 

“Leave  her  alone,”  said  the  Archbishop;  “maybe  she  is 
right.  What  do  you  and  I know  about  it?” 

“Was  Helen’s  marriage  a success?” 

“Goodness,  yes.  Why,  she  is  going  to  marry  a nobleman 
on  the  alimony.” — Judge. 

Jennie — “What  makes  George  such  a pessimist?” 

Jack — “Well,  he’s  been  married  three  times — once  for  love, 
once  for  money  and  the  last  time  for  a home.” 

Matrimony  is  the  root  of  all  evil. 

One  day  Mary,  the  charwoman,  reported  for  service  with 
a black  eye. 

“Why,  Mary,”  said  her  sympathetic  mistress,  “what  a bad 
eye  you  have !” 

“Yes’m.” 

“Well,  there’s  one  consolation.  It  might  have  been  worse.” 

“Yes’m.” 

“You  might  have  had  both  of  them  hurt.” 

“Yes’m.  Or  worse’n  that:  I might  not  ha’  been  married  at 
all.” 


A wife  placed  upon  her  husband’s  tombstone : “He  had  been 
married  forty  years  and  was  prepared  to  die.” 

“I  can  take  a hundred  words  a minute,”  said  the  stenog- 
rapher. 

“I  often  take  more  than  that,”  said  the  prospective  em- 
ployer; “but  then  I have  to,  I’m  married.” 


276 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A man  and  his  wife  were  airing  their  troubles  on  the  side 
walk  one  Saturday  evening  when  a good  Samaritan  intervened 

“See  here,  my  man,”  he  protested,  “this  sort  of  thing  won’t 
do.” 

“What  business  is  it  of  yours,  I’d  like  to  know,”  snarled  tht 
man,  turning  from  his  wife. 

“It’s  only  my  business  in  so  far  as  I can  be  of  help  in  settling 
this  dispute,”  answered  the  Samaritan  mildly. 

“This  ain’t  no  dispute,”  growled  the  man. 

“No  dispute ! But,  my  dear  friend ” 

“I  tell  you  it  ain’t  no  dispute,”  insisted  the  man.  “She”— 
jerking  his  thumb  toward  the  woman — “thinks  she  ain’t  goin 
to  get  my  week’s  wages,  and  I know  darn  well  she  ain’t 
Where’s  the  dispute  in  that?” 

His  Better  Half — “I  think  it’s  time  we  got  Lizzie  married 
and  settled  down,  Alfred.  She  will  be  twenty-eight  next  week 
you  know.” 

Her  Lesser  Half — “Oh,  don’t  hurry,  my  dear.  Better  wait 
till  the  right  sort  of  man  comes  along.” 

His  Better  Half — “But  why  wait?  I didn’t!” 

O’Flanagan  came  home  one  night  with  a deep  band  of  black 
crape  around  his  hat. 

“Why,  Mike !”  exclaimed  his  wife.  “What  are  ye  wearin 
thot  mournful  thing  for?” 

“I’m  wearin’  it  for  yer  first  husband,”  replied  Mike  firmly 
“I’m  sorry  he’s  dead.” 

“What  a strangely  interesting  face  your  friend  the  poet  has,’ 
gurgled  the  maiden  of  forty.  “It  seems  to  possess  all  the  ele- 
ments of  happiness  and  sorrow,  each  struggling  for  supremacy.’ 

“Yes,  he  looks  to  me  like  a man  who  was  married  and  didn’t 
know  it,”  growled  the  Cynical  Bachelor. 


The  not  especially  sweet-tempered  young  wife  of  a Kaslo, 
B.  C.,  man  one  day  approached  her  lord  concerning  the  mattei 
of  one  hundred  dollars  or  so. 

“I’d  like  to  let  you  have  it,  my  dear,”  began  the  husband, 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


277 


“but  the  fact  is  I haven’t  that  amount  in  the  bank  this  morn- 
ing— that  is  to  say,  I haven’t  that  amount  to  spare,  inasmuch 
as  I must  take  up  a note  for  two  hundred  dollars  this  after- 
noon.” 

“Oh,  very  well,  James!”  said  the  wife,  with  an  ominous 
calmness,  “If  you  think  the  man  who  holds  the  note  can  make 
things  any  hotter  for  you  than  I can — why,  do  as  you  say, 
James !” 

A young  lady  entered  a book  store  and  inquired  of  the  gen- 
tlemanly clerk — a married  man,  by-the-way — if  he  had  a book 
suitable  for  an  old  gentleman  who  had  been  married  fifty  years. 

Without  the  least  hesitation  the  clerk  reached  for  a copy 
of  Parkman’s  “A  Half  Century  of  Conflict.” 

Smith  and  Jones  were  discussing  the  question  of  who  should 
be  head  of  the  house — the  man  or  the  woman. 

“I  am  the  head  of  my  establishment,”  said  Jones.  “I  am 
the  bread-winner.  Why  shouldn’t  I be?” 

“Well,”  replied  Smith,  “before  my  wife  and  I were  married 
we  made  an  agreement  that  I should  make  the  rulings  in  all 
major  things,  my  wife  in  all  the  minor.” 

“How  has  it  worked?”  queried  Jones. 

Smith  smiled.  “So  far,”  he  replied,  “no  major  matters 
have  come  up.” 

A poor  lady  the  other  day  hastened  to  the  nursery  and  said 
to  her  little  daughter: 

“Minnie,  what  do  you  mean  by  shouting  and  screaming? 
Play  quietly,  like  Tommy.  See,  he  doesn’t  make  a sound.” 

“Of  course  he  doesn’t,”  said  the  little  girl.  That  is  our 
game.  He  is  papa  coming  home  late,  and  I am  you.” 

The  stranger  advanced  toward  the  door.  Mrs.  O’Toole 
stood  in  the  doorway  with  a rough  stick  in  her  left  hand 
and  a frown  on  her  brow. 

“Good  morning,”  said  the  stranger  politely.  “I’m  looking 
for  Mr.  O’Toole.” 

“So’m  I,”  said  Mrs.  O’Toole,  shifting  her  club  over  to  her 
other  hand. 


278 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Tim — “Sarer  Smith  (you  know  ’er — Bill's  missus),  she 
throwed  herself  horf  the  end  uv  the  wharf  larst  night.” 

Tom— ‘Toor  Sarer!” 

Tim — “An’  a cop  fished  ’er  out  again.” 

Tom— “Poor  Bill !” 

The  cooing  stops  with  the  honeymoon,  but  the  billing  goes 
on  forever. 

“Well,  old  man,  how  did  you  get  along  after  I left  you 
at  midnight.  Get  home  all  right?” 

“No;  a confounded  nosey  policeman  haled  me  to  the  sta- 
tion, where  I spent  the  rest  of  the  night.” 

“Lucky  dog!  I reached  home.” 

Stranger — “What’s  the  fight  about?” 

Native — “The  feller  on  top  is  Hank  Hill  wot  married  the 
widder  Strong,  an’  th’  other’s  Joel  Jenks,  wot  interdooced  him 
to  her.” — Life. 

A colored  man  had  been  arrested  on  a charge  of  beating 
and  cruelly  misusing  his  wife.  After  hearing  the  charge  against 
the  prisoner,  the  justice  turned  to  the  first  witness. 

“Madam,”  he  said,  “if  this  man  were  your  husband  and  had 
given  you  a beating,  would  you  call  in  the  police?” 

The  woman  addressed,  a veritable  Amazon  in  size  and  ag- 
gressiveness, turned  a smiling  countenance  towards  the  jus- 
tice and  answered:  “No,  jedge.  If  he  was  mah  husban’,  and 
he  treated  me  lak  he  did  ’is  wife,  Ah  wouldn’t  call  no  p’liceman. 
No,  sah,  Ah’d  call  de  undertaker.” 

We  admire  the  strict  impartiality  of  the  judge  who  recently 
fined  his  wife  twenty-five  dollars  for  contempt  of  court,  but 
we  would  hate  to  have  been  in  the  judge’s  shoes  when  he  got 
home  that  night. 

“How  many  children  have  you?”  asked  the  census-taker. 
The  man  addressed  removed  the  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
scratched  his  head,  thought  it  over  a moment,  and  then  replied: 
“Five — four  living  and  one  married.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


279 


She — “How  did  they  ever  come  to  marry ?” 

He — “Oh,  it’s  the  same  old  story.  Started  out  to  be  good 
friends,  you  know,  and  later  on  changed  their  minds.” — Puck. 

Nat  Goodwin  and  a friend  were  walking  along  Fifth  Avenue 
one  afternoon  when  they  stopped  to  look  into  a florist’s  window, 
in  which  there  was  an  artistic  arrangement  of  exquisite  roses. 

“What  wonderful  American  Beauties  those  are,  Nat!”  said 
the  friend  delightedly. 

“They  are,  indeed,”  replied  Nat. 

“You  see,  I am  very  fond  of  that  flower,”  continued  the 
friend.  “In  fact,  I might  say  it  is  my  favorite.  You  know, 
Nat,  I married  an  American  beauty.” 

“Well,”  said  Nat  dryly,  “you  haven’t  got  anything  on  me. 
I married  a cluster.” 

“Are  you  quite  sure  that  was  a marriage  license  you  gave 
me  last  month?” 

“Of  course!  What’s  the  matter?” 

“Well,  I thought  there  might  be  some  mistake,  seeing  that 
I’ve  lived  a dog’s  life  ever  since.” 

Is  not  marriage  an  open  question,  when  it  is  alleged,  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world,  that  such  as  are  in  the  institution 
wish  to  get  out,  and  such  as  are  out  wish  to  get  in. — Emerson. 

Householder — “Here,  drop  that  coat  and  clear  out!” 

Burglar — “You  be  quiet,  or  I’ll  wake  your  wife  and  give 
her  this  letter  I found  in  your  pocket.” 

The  reason  why  so  few  marriages  are  happy  is  because 
young  ladies  spend  their  time  in  making  nets,  not  in  making 
cages. — Swift. 

See  also  Church  discipline;  Domestic  finance;  Trouble. 
MARRIAGE  FEES* 

A poor  couple  who  went  to  the  priest  to  be  wedded  were 
met  with  a demand  for  the  marriage  fee.  It  was  not  forth- 


28o 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


coming.  Both  the  consenting  parties  were  rich  in  love  and  in 
their  prospects,  but  destitute  of  financial  resources.  The  father 
was  obdurate.  “No  money,  no  marriage.” 

“Give  me  have,  your  riverence,”  said  the  blushing  bride, 
“to  go  and  get  the  money.” 

It  was  given,  and  she  sped  forth  on  the  delicate  mission 
of  raising  a marriage  fee  out  of  pure  nothing.  After  a short 
interval  she  returned  with  the  sum  of  money,  and  the  cere- 
mony was  completed  to  the  satisfaction  of  all.  When  the  parting 
was  taking  place  the  newly-made  wife  seemed  a little*  uneasy. 

“Anything  on  your  mind,  Catherine?”  said  the  father. 

“Well,  your  riverence,  I would  like  to  know  if  this  marriage 
could  not  be  spoiled  now.” 

“Certainly  not,  Catherine.  No  man  can  put  you  asunder.” 

“Could  you  not  do  it  yourself,  father?  Could  you  not  spoil 
the  marriage?” 

“No,  no,  Catherine.  You  are  past  me  now.  I have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  your  marriage.” 

“That  aises  me  mind,”  said  Catherine,  “and  God  bless  your 
riverence.  There’s  the  ticket  for  your  hat.  I picked  it  up  in  the 
lobby  and  pawned  it.” 

Mandy — “What  foh  yo’  been  goin’  to  de  post-office  so  reg’lar? 
Are  yo’  corresponding  wif  some  other  female?” 

Rastus — “Nope;  but  since  ah  been  a-readin’  in  de  papers 
'bout  dese  ‘conscience  funds’  ah  kind  of  thought  ah  might  pos- 
sibly git  a lettah  from  dat  ministah  what  married  us.” — Life. 

The  knot  was  tied;  the  pair  were  wed, 

And  then  the  smiling  bridegroom  said 
Unto  the  preacher,  “Shall  I pay 
To  you  the  usual  fee  today. 

Or  would  you  have  me  wait  a year 
And  give  you  then  a hundred  clear, 

If  I should  find  the  marriage  state 
As  happy  as  I estimate?” 

The  preacher  lost  no  time  in  thought, 

To  his  reply  no  study  brought, 

There  were  no  wrinkles  on  his  brow : 

Said  he,  “I’ll  take  three  dollars  now.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


281 


MATHEMATICS 

See  Arithmetic. 


MATRIMONY 


See  Marriage. 

MEASURING  INSTRUMENTS 

Golly,  but  Vs  tired!”  exclaimed  a tall  and  thin  negro,  meet- 
ing a short  and  stout  friend  on  Washington  Street. 

“What  you  been  doin’  to  get  tired?”  demanded  the  other. 

“Well,”  explained  the  thin  one,  drawing  a deep  breath, 
“over  to  Brother  Smith’s  dey  are  measurin’  de  house  for 
some  new  carpets.  Dey  haven’t  got  no  yawdstick,  and  I’s  just 
ezactly  six  feet  tall.  So  to  oblige  Brother  Smith,  I’s  been 
a-layin’  down  and  a-gettin’  up  all  over  deir  house.” 

MEDICAL  INSPECTION  OF  SCHOOLS 

Passer-by — “What’s  the  fuss  in  the  schoolyard,  boy?” 

The  Boy — “Why,  the  doctor  has  just  been  around  examinin’ 
us  an’  one  of  the  deficient  boys  is  knockin’  th’  everlastin’  stuf- 
fing out  of  a perfect  kid.” 

MEDICINE 

The  farmer’s  mule  had  just  balked  in  the  road  when  the 
country  doctor  came  by.  The  farmer  asked  the  physician  if 
he  could  give  him  something  to  start  the  mule.  The  doctor 
said  he  could,  and,  reaching  down  into  his  medicine  case,  gave 
the  animal  some  powders.  The  mule  switched  his  tail,  tossed 
his  head  and  started  on  a mad  gallop  down  the  road.  The 
farmer  looked  first  at  the  flying  animal  and  then  at  the  doctor. 

“How  much  did  that  medicine  cost,  Doc?”  he  asked. 

“Oh,  about  fifteen  cents,”  said  the  physician. 

“Well,  give  me  a quarter’s  worth,  quick!”  And  he  swal- 
lowed it.  “I’ve  got  to  catch  that  mule.” 


2S2 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“I  hope  you  are  following  my  instructions  carefully,  Sandy — 
the  pills  three  times  a day  and  a drop  of  whisky  at  bedtime.” 

“Weel,  sir,  1 may  be  a wee  bit  behind  wi’  the  pills,  but  I’m 
about  six  weeks  in  front  wi’  the  whusky.” 

Rarely  has  a double  meaning  turned  with  more  deadly  ef- 
fect upon  an  innocent  perpetrator  than  in  an  advertisement  late- 
ly appearing  in  a western  newspaper.  He  wrote : “Wanted — 
a gentleman  to  undertake  the  sale  of  a patent  medicine.  The 
advertiser  guarantees  it  will  be  profitable  to  the  undertaker.” 

I firmly  believe  that  if  the  whole  materia  medica  could  be 
sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  it  would  be  all  the  better  for 
mankind  and  all  the  worse  for  the  fishes. — 0.  W.  Holmes. 

A man’s  own  observation,  what  he  finds  good  of,  and  what 
he  finds  hurt  of,  is  the  best  physic  to  preserve  health. — Bacon. 

MEEKNESS 

One  evening  just  before  dinner  a wife,  who  had  been 
playing  bridge  all  the  afternoon,  came  in  to  find  her  husband 
and  a strange  man  (afterward  ascertained  to  be  a lawyer)  en- 
gaged in  some  mysterious  business  over  the  library  table,  upon 
which  were  spread  several  sheets  of  paper. 

“What  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  that  paper,  Henry?”  de- 
manded the  wife. 

“I  am  making  a wish,”  meekly  responded  the  husband. 

“A  wish?” 

“Yes,  my  dear.  In  your  presence  I shall  not  presume  to 
call  it  a will.” 


MEMORIALS 

Two  negroes  were  talking  about  a recent  funeral  of  a mem- 
ber of  their  race,  at  which  funeral  there  had  been  a profusion 
of  floral  tributes.  Said  the  cook: 

“Dat’s  all  very  well,  Mandy;  but  when  I dies  I don’t  want 
no  flowers  on  my  grave.  Jes’  plant  a good  old  watermelon- 
vine;  an’  when  she  gits  ripe,  you  come  dar,  an’  don’t  you  eat 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


283 


it,  but  jes’  bus’  it  on  de  grave,  an’  let  de  good  old  juice  dribble 
down  thro’  de  ground !” 

“That’s  rather  a handsome  mantelpiece  you  have  there,  Mr. 
Binkston,”  said  the  visitor. 

“Yes,”  replied  Mr.  Binkston,  proudly.  “That  is  a memorial 
to  my  wife.” 

“Why — I was  not  aware  that  Mrs.  Binkston  had  passed 
away,”  said  the  visitor  sympathetically. 

“Oh  no,  indeed,  she  hasn’t,”  smiled  Mr.  Binkston.  “She  is 
serving  her  thirtieth  sojourn  in  jail.  That  mantelpiece  is  built 
of  the  bricks  she  was  convicted  of  throwing.” 

MEMORY 

“Uncle  Mose,”  said  a drummer,  addressing  an  old  colored 
man  seated  on  a drygoods  box  in  front  of  the  village  store, 
“they  tell  me  that  you  remember  seeing  George  Washington — 
am  I mistaken?” 

“No,  sah,”  said  Uncle  Mose.  “I  uster  ’member  seein’  him, 
but  I done  fo’got  sence  I jined  de  chu’ch.” 

A noted  college  president,  attending  a banquet  in  Boston, 
was  surprised  to  see  that  the  darky  who  took  the  hats  at  the 
door  gave  no  checks  in  return. 

“He  has  a most  wonderful  memory,”  a fellow  diner  ex- 
plained. “He’s  been  doing  that  for  years  and  prides  himself 
upon  never  having  made  a mistake.” 

As  the  college  president  was  leaving,  the  darky  passed  him 
his  hat. 

“How  do  you  know  that  this  one  is  mine?” 

“I  don’t  know  it,  suh,”  admitted  the  darky. 

“Then  why  do  you  give  it  to  me?” 

“’Cause  yo’  gave  it  to  me,  suh.” 

“Tommy,”  said  his  mother  reprovingly,  “what  did  I say  I’d 
do  to  you  if  I ever  caught  you  stealing  jam  again?” 

Tommy  thoughtfully  scratched  his  head  with  his  sticky  fin- 
gers. 

“Why,  that’s  funny,  ma,  that  you  should  forget  it,  too. 
Hanged  if  I can  remember.” 


284 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Smith  is  a young  New  York  lawyer,  clever  in  many  ways, 
but  very  forgetful.  He  was  recently  sent  to  St.  Louis  to  in- 
terview an  important  client  in  regard  to  a case  then  pending 
in  the  Missouri  courts.  Later  the  head  of  his  firm  received 
this  telegram  from  St.  Louis : 

'‘Have  forgotten  name  of  client.  Please  wire  at  once.” 
This  was  the  reply  sent  from  New  York: 

“Client’s  name  Jenkins.  Your  name  Smith.” 


When  time  who  steals  our  years  away 
Shall  steal  our  pleasures  too, 

The  mem’ry  of  the  past  will  stay 
And  half  our  joys  renew. 

— Moore. 

The  heart  hath  its  own  memory,  like  the  mind, 

And  in  it  are  enshrined 
The  precious  keepsakes,  into  which  is  wrought 
The  giver’s  loving  thought. 

— Longfellow. 


MEN 

Here’s  to  the  men!  God  bless  them! 

Worst  of  me  sins,  I confess  them ! 

In  loving  them  all;  be  they  great  or  small, 
So  here’s  to  the  boys ! God  bless  them ! 


May  all  single  men  be  married, 
And  all  married  men  be  happy. 


“What  is  your  ideal  man?” 

“One  who  is  clever  enough  to  make  money  and  foolish 
enough  to  spend  it!” 


I have  thought  some  of  Nature’s  journeymen  had  made  men 
and  not  made  them  well,  they  imitated  humanity  so  abomin- 
ably.— Shakespeare. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


2S5 


Men  are  four: 

He  who  knows  and  knows  not  that  he  knows, — 

He  is  asleep — wake  him; 

He  who  knows  not  and  knows  not  that  he  knows  not, — 

He  is  a fool — shun  him; 

He  who  knows  not  and  knows  that  he  knows  not, — 

He  is  a child — teach  him; 

He  who  knows  and  knows  that  ne  knows, — 

He  is  a king — follow  him. 

See  also  Dogs;  Husbands. 

MESSAGES 

“Have  you  the  rent  ready?” 

“No,  sir;  mother’s  gone  out  washing  and  forgot  to  put  it 
out  for  you.” 

“Did  she  tell  you  she’d  forgotten?” 

“Yes,  sir.” 

One  of  the  passengers  on  a wreck  was  an  exceedingly  ner- 
vous man,  who,  while  floating  in  the  water,  imagined  how  his 
friends  would  acquaint  his  wife  of  his  late.  Saved  at  last, 
he  rushed  to  the  telegraph  office  and  sent  this  message:  “Dear 
Pat,  I am  saved.  Break  it  gently  to  my  wife.” 

METAPHOR 

It  was  a Washington  woman,  angry  because  the  authorities 
had  closed  the  woman’s  rest-room  in  the  Senate  office  building, 
who  burst  out: 

“It  is  almost  as  if  the  Senate  had  hurled  its  glove  into 
the  teeth  of  the  advancing  wave  that  is  sounding  the  clarion  of 
equal  rights.” 

A water  consumer  in  Los  Angeles,  California,  whose  sup- 
ply had  been  turned  off  because  he  wouldn’t  pay,  wrote  to 
the  department  as  follows: 

“In  the  matter  of  shutting  off  the  water  on  unpaid  bills, 
your  company  is  fast  becoming  a regular  crystallized  Russian 


286 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


bureaucracy,  running  in  a groove  and  deaf  to  the  appeals  of 
reform.  There  is  no  use  of  your  trying  to  impugn  the  verity 
of  this  indictment  by  shaking  your  official  heads  in  the  teeth 
of  your  own  deeds. 

“If  you  will  persist  in  this  kind  of  thing,  a widespread  con- 
flagration of  the  populace  will  be  so  imminent  that  it  will  re- 
quire only  a spark  to  let  loose  the  dogs  of  war  in  our  midst. 
Will  you  persist  in  hurling  the  corner  stone  of  our  personal 
liberty  to  your  wolfish  hounds  of  collectors,  thirsting  for  its 
blood?  If  you  persist,  the  first  thing  you  know  you  will  have 
the  chariot  of  a justly  indignant  revolution  rolling  along  in  our 
midst  and  gnashing  its  teeth  as  it  rolls. 

“If  your  rascally  collectors  are  permitted  to  continue  com- 
ing to  our  doors  with  unblushing  footsteps,  with  cloaks  of 
hypocritical  compunction  in  their  mouths,  and  compel  payment 
from  your  patrons,  this  policy  will  result  in  cutting  the  wool 
off  the  sheep  that  lays  the  golden  egg,  until  you  have  pumped 
it  dry — and  then  farewell,  a long  farewell,  to  our  vaunted  pros- 
perity.” 

MICE 

“What’s  the  matter  with  Briggs?” 

“He  was  getting  shaved  by  a lady  barber  when  a mouse  ran 
across  the  floor.” — Life. 

MIDDLE  CLASSES 

Willie — “Paw,  what  is  the  middle  class?” 

Paw — “The  middle  class  consists  of  people  who  are  not  poor 
enough  to  accept  charity  and  not  rich  enough  to  donate  any- 
thing.” 


MILITANTS 


See  Suffragettes. 

MILITARY  DISCIPLINE 

Murphy  was  a new  recruit  in  the  cavalry.  He  could  not 
ride  at  all,  and  by  ill  luck  was  given  one  of  the  most  vicious 
horses  in  the  troop. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


287 


“Remember,”  said  the  sergeant,  “no  one  is  allowed  to  dis- 
mount without  orders.” 

Murphy  was  no  sooner  in  the  saddle  than  he  was  thrown  to 
the  ground. 

“Murphy!”  yelled  the  sergeant,  when  he  discovered  him  ly- 
ing breathless  on  the  ground,  “you  dismounted!” 

“I  did.” 

“Did  you  have  orders?” 

“I  did.” 

“From  headquarters,  I suppose?” 

“No,  sor;  from  hintquarters.” 


“How  dare  you  come  on  parade,”  exclaimed  an  Irish  ser- 
geant to  a recruit,  “before  a respictible  man  loike  mysilf  smoth- 
ered from  head  to  foot  in  graise  an’  poipe  clay?  Tell  me  now — 
answer  me  when  I spake  to  yez !” 

The  recruit  was  about  to  excuse  himself  for  his  condition 
when  the  sergeant  stopped  him. 

“Dare  yez  to  answer  me  when  I puts  a question  to  yez?” 
he  cried.  “Hould  yer  lyin’  tongue,  and  open  your  face  at  - yer 
peril!  Tell  me  now,  what  have  ye  been  doin’  wid  yer  uniform 
an’  arms  an’  bilts?  Not  a word,  or  I’ll  clap  yez  in  the  guard- 
room.  When  I axes  yez  anything  an’  yez  spakes  I’ll  have  yez 
tried  for  insolence  to  yer  superior  officer,  but  if  yez  don’t  answer 
when  I questions  yez,  I’ll  have  yez  punished  for  disobedience 
of  orders ! So,  yez  see,  I have  yez  both  ways !” 

Mistake,  error,  is  the  discipline  through  which  we  advance. 

— Channing. 


MILLINERS 
Recipe  for  a milliner: 

To  a presence  that’s  much  more  than  queenly, 
Add  a manner  that’s  quite  Vere  de  Vere; 

You  feel  like  a worm  in  her  sight  when  she  says, 
“Only  $300,  my  dear!” 


— Life. 


288 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


MILLIONAIRES 

Recipe  for  a multi-millionaire: 

Take  a boy  with  bare  feet  as  a starter 
Add  thrift  and  sobriety,  mixed — 

Flavor  with  quarts  of  religion, 

And  see  that  the  tariff  is  fixed. 

— Life . 

Millionaire  (to  a beggar) — “Be  off  with  you  this  minute!” 

Beggar — “Look  ’ere,  mister;  the  only  difference  between  you 
and  me  is  that  you  are  makin’  your  second  million,  while  I 
am  still  workin’  at  my  first.” 

“Now  that  you  have  made  $50,000,000,  I suppose  you  are 
going  to  keep  right  on  for  the  purpose  of  trying  to  get  a 
hundred  millions?” 

“No,  sir.  You  do  me  an  injustice.  I’m  going  to  put  in  the 
rest  of  my  time  trying  to  get  my  conscience  into  a satisfactory 
condition. 

“When  I was  a young  man,”  said  Mr.  Cumrox,  “I  thought 
nothing  of  working  twelve  or  fourteen  hours  a day.” 

“Father,”  replied  the  young  man  with  sporty  clothes,  “I 
wish  you  wouldn’t  mention  it.  Those  non-union  sentiments  are 
liable  to  make  you  unpopular.” 

No  good  man  ever  became  suddenly  rich. — Syrus. 

And  all  to  leave  what  with  his  toil  he  won, 

To  that  unfeather’d  two-legged  thing,  a son. 

— Dryden . 


See  also  Capitalists. 

MINORITIES 

Stepping  out  between  the  acts  at  the  first  production  of  one 
of  his  plays,  Bernard  Shaw  said  to  the  audience : 

“What  do  you  think  of  it?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


23  0 


This  startled  everybody  for  the  time  being,  but  presently 
a man  in  the  pit  assembled  his  scattered  wits  and  cried: 

“Rotten !” 

Shaw  made  a curtsey  and  melted  the  house  with  one  of  his 
Irish  smiles. 

“My  friend,”  he  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  indicat- 
ing the  crowd  in  front,  “I  quite  agree  with  you,  but  what  are 
we  two  against  so  many?” 


MISERS 

There  was  an  old  man  of  Nantucket 
Who  kept  all  his  cash  in  a bucket; 

But  his  daughter,  named  Nan, 

Ran  away  with  a man — 

And  as  for  the  bucket,  Nantucket. 

A mere  madness,  to  live  like  a wretch,  and  die  rich. — Robert 
Burton. 


MISSIONARIES 

She — “Poor  cousin  Jack!  And  to  be  eaten  by  those  wretch- 
ed cannibals !” 

He — “Yes,  my  dear  child;  but  he  gave  them  their  first  taste 
in  religion !” 

At  a meeting  of  the  Women’s  Foreign  Missionary  Society 
in  a large  city  church  a discussion  arose  among  the  members 
present  as  to  the  race  of  people  that  inhabited  a far-away 
land.  Some  insisted  that  they  were  not  a man-eating  people; 
others  that  they  were  known  to  be  cannibals.  However,  the 
question  was  finally  decided  by  a minister’s  widow,  who  said: 

“I  beg  pardon  for  interrupting,  Mrs.  Chairman,  but  I can 
assure  you  that  they  are  cannibals.  My  husband  was  a mis- 
sionary there  and  they  ate  him.” 

MISSIONS 

“What  in  the  world  are  you  up  to,  Hilda?”  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Bale,  as  she  entered  the  nursery  where  her  six-year-old  daugh- 


290 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


ter  was  stuffing  broken  toys,  headless  dolls,  ragged  clothes  and 
general  debris  into  an  open  box. 

“Why,  mother,”  cried  Hilda,  “can’t  you  see?  I’m  packing 
a missionary  box  just  the  way  the  ladies  do;  and  it’s  all  right,” 
she  added  reassuringly,  “I  haven’t  put  in  a single  thing  that’s 
any  good  at  all !” 

MISTAKEN  IDENTITY 

There  was  a young  fellow  named  Paul, 

Who  went  to  a fancy  dress  ball; 

They  say,  just  for  fun 
He  dressed  up  like  a bun, 

And  was  “et”  by  a dog  in  the  hall. 

A Scottish  woman,  who  was  spending  her  holidays  in  Lon- 
don, entered  a bric-a-brac  shop,  in  search  of  something  odd  to 
take  home  to  Scotland  with  her.  After  she  had  inspected  sev- 
eral articles,  but  had  found  none  to  suit  her,  she  noticed  a 
quaint  figure,  the  head  and  shoulders  of  which  appeared  above 
the  counter. 

“What  is  that  Japanese  idol  over  there  worth?”  she  inquired 
of  the  salesman. 

The  salesman’s  reply  was  given  in  a subdued  tone: 

“About  half  a million,  madam.  That’s  the  proprietor!” 

The  late  James  McNeil  Whistler  was  standing  bareheaded 
in  a hat  shop,  the  clerk  having  taken  his  hat  to  another  part 
of  the  shop  for  comparison.  A man  rushed  in  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand,  and,  supposing  Whistler  to  be  a clerk  angrily  con- 
fronted him. 

“See  here,”  he  said,  “this  hat  doesn’t  fit.” 

Whistler  eyed  the  stranger  critically  from  head  to  foot,  and 
then  drawled  out : 

“Well,  neither  does  your  coat.  What’s  more,  if  you’ll  par- 
don my  saying  so,  I’ll  be  hanged  if  I care  much  for  the  color 
of  your  trousers.” 

The  steamer  was  on  the  point  of  leaving,  and  the  pas- 
sengers lounged  on  the  deck  and  waited  for  the  start.  At 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


291 

length  one  of  them  espied  a cyclist  in  the  far  distance,  and  it 
soon  became  evident  that  he  was  doing  his  level  best  to  catch 
the  boat. 

Already  the  sailors’  hands  were  on  the  gangways,  and  the 
cyclist’s  chance  looked  small  indeed.  Then  a sportive  pas- 
senger wagered  a sovereign  to  a shilling  that  he  would  miss 
it.  The  offer  was  taken,  and  at  once  the  deck  became  a scene 
of  wild  excitement. 

“He’ll  miss  it.” 

“No;  he’ll  just  do  it.” 

“Come  on !” 

“He  won’t  do  it.” 

“Yes,  he  will.  He’s  done  it.  Hurrah!” 

In  the  very  nick  of  time  the  cyclist  arrived,  sprang  off  his 
machine,  and  ran  up  the  one  gangway  left.  , 

“Cast  off!”  he  cried. 

It  was  the  captain. 

Much  to  the  curious  little  girl’s  disgust,  her  elder  sister  and 
her  girl  friends  had  quickly  closed  the  door  of  the  back  parlor, 
before  she  could  wedge  her  small  self  in  among  them. 

She  waited  uneasily  for  a little  while,  then  she  knocked.  No 
response.  She  knocked  again.  Still  no  attention.  Her  cur- 
iosity could  be  controlled  no  longer.  “Dodo !”  she  called  in 
staccato  tones  as  she  knocked  once  again.  “’Tain’t  me!  It’s 
Mamma !” 


MOLLYCODDLES 

“Tommy,  why  don’t  you  play  with  Frank  any  more?”  asked 
Tommy’s  mother,  who  noticed  that  he  was  cultivating  the 
acquaintance  of  a new  boy  on  the  block.  “I  thought  you  were 
such  good  chums.” 

“We  was,”  replied  Tommy  superciliously,  “but  he’s  a molly- 
coddle. He  paid  t’  git  into  the  ball-grounds.” 


MONEY 

In  some  of  the  college  settlements  there  are  penny  savings 
banks  for  children. 


292 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


One  Saturday  a small  boy  arrived  with  an  important  air  and 
withdrew  2 cents  from  his  account.  Monday  morning  he 
promptly  returned  the  money. 

“So  you  didn’t  spend  your  2 cents?”  observed  the  worker  in 
charge. 

“Oh,  no,”  he  replied,  “but  a fellow  just  likes  to  have  a little 
cash  on  hand  over  Sunday.” 

See  also  Domestic  finance. 

MORAL  EDUCATION 

Two  little  boys,  four  and  five  years  old  respectively,  were 
playing  quietly,  when  the  one  of  four  years  struck  the  other 
on  his  cheek.  An  interested  bystander  stepped  up  and  asked 
him  why  he  had  hit  the  other  who  had  done  nothing. 

“Well,”  replied  the  pugilistic  one,  “last  Sunday  our  lesson  in 
Sunday-school  was  about  if  a fellow  hit  you  on  the  left  cheek 
turn  the  other  and  get  another  crack,  and  I just  wanted  to  see 
if  Bobbie  knew  his  lesson.” 

MOSQUITOES 

Senator  Gore,  of  Oklahoma,  while  addressing  a convention 
in  Oklahoma  City  recently,  told  this  story,  illustrating  a point 
he  made : 

“A  northern  gentleman  was  being  entertained  by  a south- 
ern colonel  on  a fishing-trip.  It  was  his  first  visit  to  the  South, 
and  the  mosquitoes  were  so  bothersome  that  he  was  unable  to 
sleep,  while  at  the  same  time  he  could  hear  his  friend  snoring 
audibly. 

“The  next  morning  he  approached  the  old  darky  who  was 
doing  the  cooking. 

“ ‘Jim/  he  said,  ‘how  is  it  the  colonel  is  able  to  sleep  so 
soundly  with  so  many  mosquitoes  around?’ 

“ Til  tell  yo’,  boss,’  the  darky  replied,  ‘de  fust  part  of  de 
night  de  kernel  is  too  full  to  pay  any  ’tenshum  to  de  skeeters, 
and  de  last  part  of  de  night  de  skeeters  is  too  full  to  pay  any 
’tenshum  to  de  kernel.’  ” 

See  also  Applause;  New  Jersey. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


=9  3 


MOTHERS 

While  reconnoitering  in  Westmoreland  County,  Virginia,  one 
of  General  Washington’s  officers  chanced  upon  a fine  team  of 
horses  driven  before  a plow  by  a burly  slave.  Finer  animals 
he  had  never  seen.  When  his  eyes  had  feasted  on  their  beauty 
he  cried  to  the  driver : “Hello  good  fellow ! I must  have  those 
horses.  They  are  just  such  animals  as  I have  been  looking 
for.” 

The  black  man  grinned,  rolled  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  put 
the  lash  to  the  horses’  flanks  and  turned  up  another  furrow 
in  the  rich  soil. 

The  officer  waited  until  he  had  finished  the  row;  then  throw- 
ing back  his  cavalier  cloak  the  ensign  of  the  rank  dazzled  the 
slave’s  eyes. 

“Better  see  missus ! Better  see  missus !”  he  cried  waving 
his  hand  to  the  south,  where  above  the  cedar  growth  rose  the 
towers  of  a fine  old  Virginia  mansion. 

The  officer  turned  up  the  carriage  road  and  soon  was  rapping 
the  great  brass  knocker  of  the  front  door. 

Quickly  the  door  swung  upon  its  ponderous  hinges  and  a 
grave,  majestic-looking  woman  confronted  the  visitor  with  an 
air  of  inquiry. 

“Madam,”  said  the  officer  doffing  his  cap  and  overcome  by 
her  dignity,  “I  have  come  to  claim  your  horses  in  the  name  of 
the  Government.” 

“My  horses?”  said  she,  bending  upon  him  a pair  of  eyes 
born  to  command.  “Sir,  you  cannot  have  them.  My  crops 
are  out  and  I need  my  horses  in  the  field.” 

“I  am  sorry,”  said  the  officer,  “but  I must  have  them,  mad- 
am. Such  are  the  orders  of  my  chief.” 

“Your  chief?  Who  is  your  chief,  pray?”  she  demanded 
with  restrained  warmth. 

“The  commander  of  the  American  army,  General  George 
Washington,”  replied  the  other,  squaring  his  shoulders  and 
swelling  his  pride. 

A smile  of  triumph  softened  the  sternness  of  the  woman’s 
features.  “You  go  and  tell  General  George  Washington  for 
me,”  said  she,  “that  his  mother  says-  he  cannot  have  her  horses.” 


2Q4 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  wagons  of  “the  greatest  show  on  earth”  passed  up  the 
avenue  at  daybreak.  Their  incessant  rumbling  soon  awakened 
ten-year-old  Billie  and  five-year-old  brother  Robert.  Their 
mother  feigned  sleep  as  the  two  white-robed  figures  crept  past 
her  bed  into  the  hall,  on  the  way  to  investigate.  Robert 
struggled  manfully  with  the  unaccustomed  task  of  putting  on 
his  clothes.  “Wait  for  me,  Billie,”  his  mother  heard  him  beg. 
'You’ll  get  ahead  of  me.” 

“Get  mother  to  help  you,”  counseled  Billie,  who  was  having 
troubles  of  his  own. 

Mother  started  to  the  rescue,  and  then  paused  as  she  heard 
the  voice  of  her  younger,  guarded  but  anxious  and  insistent. 

“ You  ask  her,  Billie.  You’ve  known  her  longer  than  I 
have.” 

A.  little  girl,  being  punished  by  her  mother  flew,  white  with 
rage,  to  her  desk,  wrote  on  a piece  of  paper,  and  then  going 
out  in  the  yard  she  dug  a hole  in  the  ground,  put  the  paper 
in  it  and  covered  it  over.  The  mother,  being  interested  in  her 
child’s  doings,  went  out  after  the  little  girl  had  gone  away, 
dug  up  the  paper  and  read: 

Dear  Devil : 

Please  come  and  take  my  mamma  away. 

One  morning  a little  girl  hung  about  the  kitchen  bothering 
the  busy  cook  to  death.  The  cook  lost  patience  finally.  “Clear 
out  o’  here,  ye  sassy  little  brat!”  she  shouted,  thumping  the 
table  with  a rolling-pin. 

The  little  girl  gave  the  cook  a haughty  look.  “I  never  allow 
any  one  but  my  mother  to  speak  to  me  like  that,”  she  said. 

The  public-spirited  lady  met  the  little  boy  on  the  street. 
Something  about  his  appearance  halted  her.  She  stared  at  him 
in  her  near-sighted  way. 

The  Lady — “Little  boy,  haven’t  you  any  home?” 

The  Little  Boy — “Oh,  yes’m;  I’ve  got  a home.” 

The  Lady — “And  loving  parents?” 

The  Little  Boy — “Yes’m.” 

The  Lady — “I’m  afraid  you  do  not  know  what  love  really 
is.  Do  your  parents  look  after  your  moral  welfare?” 

The  Little  Boy  — “Yes’m.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


295 


The  Lady — “Are  they  bringing  you  up  to  be  a good  and 
helpful  citizen  ?” 

The  Little  Boy — “Yes’m.” 

The  Lady — “Will  you  ask  your  mother  to  come  and  hear 
me  talk  on  ‘When  Does  a Mother’s  Duty  to  Her  Child  Be- 
gin?’ next  Saturday  afternoon,  at  three  o’clock,  at  Lyceum 
Hall?” 

The  Little  Boy  (explosively) — “What’s  th’  matter  with  you 
ma ! Don’t  you  know  me?  I’m  your  little  boy!” 

Here’s  to  the  happiest  hours  of  my  life — 

Spent  in  the  arms  of  another  man’s  wife: 

My  mother! 

Happy  he 

With  such  a mother ! faith  in  womankind 
Beats  with  his  blood,  and  trust  in  all  things  high 
Comes  easy  to  him,  and  though  he  trip  and  fall, 

He  shall  not  blind  his  soul  with  clay. 

— T ennyson 


Women  know 

The  way  to  rear  up  children  (to  be  just)  ; 

They  know  a simple,  merry,  tender  knack 
Of  tying  sashes,  fitting  baby-shoes, 

And  stringing  pretty  words  that  make  no  sense, 

And  kissing  full  sense  into  empty  words; 

Which  things  are  corals  to  cut  life  upon, 

Although  such  trifles. 

— E.  B.  Browning 


MOTHERS-IN-LAW 

Justice  David  J.  Brewer  was  asked  not  long  ago  by  a man  * 
“Will  you  please  tell  me,  sir,  what  is  the  extreme  penalty 
for  bigamy?” 

Justice  Brewer  smiled  and  answered: 

“Two  mothers-in-law.” 

She — “And  so  you  are  going  to  be  my  son-in-law?” 

He — “By  Jove!  I hadn’t  thought  of  that.” 


296 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Waiter — “Have  another  glass,  sir?” 

Husband  (to  his  wife) — “Shall  I have  another  glass,  Henri- 
etta?” 

Wife  (to  her  mother) — “Shall  he  have  another,  mother?” 

A blackmailer  wrote  the  following  to  a wealthy  business 
man:  “Send  me  $5,000  or  I willl  abduct  your  mother-in-law.” 

To  which  the  business  man  replied:  “Sorry  I am  short  of 
funds,  but  your  proposition  interests  me.” 

An  undertaker  telegraphed  to  a man  that  his  mother-in-law 
had  died  and  asked  whether  he  should  bury,  embalm  or  cremate 
her.  The  man  replied,  “All  three,  take  no  chances.” 

MOTORCYCLES 

The  automobile  was  a thing  unheard  of  to  a mountaineer 
in  one  community,  and  he  was  very  much  astonished  one  day 
when  he  saw  one  go  by  without  any  visible  means  of  locomo- 
tion. His  eyes  bulged,  however,  when  a motorcycle  followed 
closely  in  its  wake  and  disappeared  like  a flash  around  a bend 
in  the  road. 

“Gee  whiz !”  he  said,  turning  to  his  son,  “who’d  ’a’  s’posed 
that  thing  had  a colt?” 


MOUNTAINS 

Some  real-estate  dealers  in  British  Columbia  were  accused 
of  having  victimized  English  and  Scotch  settlers  by  selling  to 
them  (at  long  range)  fruit  ranches  which  were  situated  on  the 
tops  of  mountains.  It  is  said  that  the  captain  of  a steamboat  on 
Kootenay  Lake  once  heard  a great  splash  in  the  water.  Look- 
ing over  the  rail,  he  spied  the  head  of  a man  who  was  swimming 
toward  his  boat.  He  hailed  him.  “Do  you  know,”  said  the  swim- 
mer, “this  is  the  third  time  to-day  that  Fve  fallen  off  that  bally 
old  ranch  of  mine?” 


MOVING  PICTURES 

“Your  soldiers  look  fat  and  happy.  You  must  have  a war 
chest.”  “Not . exactly,  but  things  are  on  a higher  plane  than 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


297 


they  used  to  be.  This  revolution  is  being  financed  by  a mov- 
ing-picture concern.” 


MUCK-RAKING 

The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  well  written  up. 

MULES 

Gen.  O.  O.  Howard,  as  is  well  known,  is  a man  of  deep  re- 
ligious principles,  and  in  the  course  of  the  war  he  divided  his 
time  pretty  equally  between  fighting  and  evangelism.  How- 
ard’s brigade  was  known  all  through  the  army  as  the  Christian 
brigade,  and  he  was  very  proud  of  it. 

There  was  one  hardened  old  sinner  in  the  brigade,  how- 
ever, whose  ears  were  deaf  to  all  exhortation.  General  How- 
ard was  particularly  anxious  to  convert  this  man,  and  one  day 
he  went  down  in  the  teamsters’  part  of  the  camp  where  the 
man  was  on  duty.  He  talked  with  him  long  and  earnestly  about 
religion  and  finally  said: 

“I  want  to  see  you  converted.  Won’t  you  come  to  the 
mourners’  bench  at  the  next  service?” 

The  erring  one  rubbed  his  head  thoughtfully  for  a moment 
and  then  replied: 

‘‘General,  I’m  plumb  willin’  to  be  converted,  but  if  I am, 
seein’  that  everyone  else  has  got  religion,  who  in  blue  blazes  is 
goin’  to  drive  the  mules?” 

MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT 

“What’s  the  trouble  in  Plunkville?” 

“We’ve  tried  a mayor  and  we’ve  tried  a commission.” 

“Well?” 

“Now  we’re  thinking  of  offering  the  management  of  our 
city  to  some  good  magazine.” 

MUSEUMS 

It  had  been  anything  but  an  easy  afternoon  for  the  teacher 
who  took  six  of  her  pupils  through  the  Museum  of  Natural 


298 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


History,  but  their  enthusiastic  interest  in  the  stuffed  animals 
and  their  open-eyed  wonder  at  the  prehistoric  fossils  amply 
repaid  her. 

“Well,  boys,  where  have  you  been  all  afternoon?”  asked  the 
father  of  two  of  the  party  that  evening. 

The  answer  came  back  with  joyous  promptness:  “Oh,  pop! 
Teacher  took  us  to  a dead  circus.” 


Two  Marylanders,  who  were  visiting  the  National  Museum 
at  Washington,  were  seen  standing  in  front  of  an  Egyptian 
mummy,  over  which  hung  a placard  bearing  the  inscription. 
“B.  C.  1187.” 

Both  visitors  were  much  mystified  thereby.  Said  one: 

“What  do  you  make  of  that,  Bill?” 

“Well,”  said  Bill,  “I  dunno;  but  maybe  it  was  the  number 
of  the  motor-car  that  killed  him.” — Edwin  Tarrisse. 

MUSIC 

The  musical  young  woman  who  dropped  her  peekaboo  waist 
in  the  piano  player  and  turned  out  a Beethoven  sonata,  has 
her  equal  in  the  lady  who  stood  in  front  of  a five-bar  fence 
and  sang  all  the  dots  on  her  veil. 

A thief  broke  into  a Madison  avenue  mansion  early  the 
other  morning  and  found  himself  in  the  music-room.  Hearing 
footsteps  approaching,  he  took  refuge  behind  a screen. 

From  eight  to  nine  o’clock  the  eldest  daughter  had  a sing 
ing  lesson. 

From  nine  to  ten  o’clock  the  second  daughter  took  a pianc 
lesson. 

From  ten  to  eleven  o’clock  the  eldest  son  had  a violin  lesson 

From  eleven  to  twelve  o’clock  the  other  son  had  a lesson  on 
the  flute. 

At  twelve-fifteen  all  the  brothers  and  sisters  assembled  and 
studied  an  ear-splitting  piece  for  voice,  piano,  violin  and  flute 

The  thief  staggered  out  from  behind  the  screen  at  twelve- 
forty-five,  and  falling  at  their  feet,  cried: 

“For  Heaven’s  sake,  have  me  arrested!” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


299 


A lady  told  Swinburne  that  she  would  render  on  the  piano  a 
very  ancient  Florentine  retornello  which  had  just  been  discov- 
ered. She  then  played  “Three  blind  mice”  and  Swinburne  was 
enchanted.  He  found  that  it  reflected  to  perfection  the  cruel 
beauty  of  the  Medicis — which,  perhaps,  it  does. — Edmund  Gosse. 


The  accomplished  and  obliging  pianist  had  rendered  several 
selections,  when  one  of  the  admiring  group  of  listeners  in  the 
hotel  parlor  suggested  Mozart’s  Twelfth  Mass.  Several  people 
echoed  the  request,  but  one  lady  was  particularly  desirous  of 
hearing  the  piece,  explaining  that  her  husband  had  belonged  to 
that  very  regiment. 


Dinner  was  a little  late.  A guest  asked  the  hostess  to  play 
something.  Seating  herself  at  the  piano,  the  good  woman  exe- 
cuted a Chopin  nocturne  with  precision.  She  finished,  and  there 
was  still  an  interval  of  waiting  to  be  bridged.  In  the  grim 
silence  she  turned  to  an  old  gentleman  on  her  right  and  said: 
“Would  you  like  a sonata  before  going  in  to  dinner?” 

He  gave  a start  of  surprise  and  pleasure  as  he  responded 
briskly : 

Why,  yes,  thanks ! I had  a couple  on  my  way  here,  but  1 
could  stand  another.” 


Music  is  the  universal  language  of  mankind. — Longfellow. 


I even  think  that,  sentimentally,  I am  disposed  to  harmony. 
But  organically  I am  incapable  of  a tune. — Charles  Lamb. 


There’s  music  in  the  sighing  of  a reed; 
There’s  music  in  the  gushing  of  a rill ; 
There’s  music  in  all  things,  if  men  had  ears : 
Their  earth  is  but  an  echo  of  the  spheres. 


— Byron. 


300 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


MUSICIANS 

Father — “Well,  sonny,  did  you  take  your  dog  to  the  Vet’  next 
door  to  your  house,  as  I suggested?” 

Boy— “Yes,  sir” 

Father — “And  what  did  he  say?” 

Boy — “ ’E  said  Towser  was  suffering  from  nerves,  so  Sis  had 
better  give  up  playin’  the  pianner.” 


The  “celebrated  pianiste,”  Miss  Sharpe,  had  concluded  her 
recital.  As  the  resultant  applause  was  terminating,  Mrs.  Roches- 
ter observed  Colonel  Grayson  wiping  his  eyes.  The  old  gentle- 
man noticed  her  look,  and,  thinking  it  one  of  inquiry,  began  to 
explain  the  cause  of  his  sadness.  “The  girl’s  playing,”  he  told 
the  lady,  “reminded  me  so  much  of  the  playing  of  her  father. 
He  used  to  be  a chum  of  mine  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.” 
“Oh,  indeed!”  cooed  Mrs.  Rochester,  with  a conventional 
show  of  interest.  “I  never  knew  her  father  was  a piano-player.” 
“He  wasn’t,”  replied  the  Colonel.  “He  was  a drummer.” 

— G.  T.  Evans. 


Recipe  for  an  orchestra  leader: 

Four  hundred  and  twenty-two  movements — 
Emanuel,  Swedish  and  Swiss — 

It’s  a wonder  the  band  can  keep  playing, 

You’d  think  they’d  die  laughing  at  this! 

—Life. 


’Tis  God  gives  skill, 

But  not  without  men’s  hands:  He  could  not  make 
Antonio  Stradivari’s  violins 
Without  Antonio. 

— George  Eliot. 


NAMES,  PERSONAL 


Israel  Zangwill,  the  well-known  writer,  signs  himself  I.  Zang- 
will.  He  was  once  approached  at  a reception  by  a fussy  old  lady, 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


301 


who  demanded,  “Oh,  Mr.  Zangwill,  what  is  your  Christian 
name?” 

“Madame,  I have  none,”  he  gravely  assured  her. — John  Pear- 
son. 

Friend — “So  your  great  Russian  actor  was  a total  failure?” 

Manager — “Yes.  It  took  all  our  profits  to  pay  for  running 
the  electric  light  sign  with  his  name  on  it.” — Puck. 

A somewhat  unpatriotic  little  son  of  Italy,  twelve  years  old, 
came  to  his  teacher  in  the  public  school  and  asked  if  he  could 
not  have  his  name  changed. 

“Why  do  you  wish  to  change  your  name?”  the  teacher 
asked. 

“I  want  to  be  an  American.  I live  in  America  now.  I no 
longer  want  to  be  a Dago.” 

“What  American  name  would  you  like  to  have?” 

“I  have  it  here,”  he  said,  handing  the  teacher  a dirty  scrap 
of  paper  on  which  was  written — Patrick  Dennis  McCarty. 

A shy  young  man  once  said  to  a young  lady:  “I  wish  dear, 

that  we  were  on  such  terms  of  intimacy  that  you  would  not 
mind  calling  me  by  my  first  name.” 

“Oh,”  she  replied,  “your  second  name  is  good  enough  for 
me. 

An  American  travelling  in  Europe  engaged  a courier.  Arriv- 
ing at  an  inn  in  Austria,  the  man  asked  his  servant  to  enter  his 
name  in  accordance  with  the  police  regulations  of  that  country. 
Some  time  after,  the  man  asked  the  servant  if  he  had  complied 
with  his  orders. 

Yes,  sir,”  was  the  reply. 

“How  did  you  write  my  name?”  asked  the  master. 

“Well,  sir  I can’t  pronounce  it,”  answered  the  servant,  “but 
I copied  it  from  your  portmanteau,  sir.” 

“Why,  my  name  isn’t  there.  Bring  me  the  book.”  The  reg- 
ister was  brought,  and,  instead  of  the  plain  American  name  of 
two  syllables,  the  following  entry  was  revealed : 

“Monsieur  Warranted  Solid  Leather.” 

— M.  A.  Hitchcock. 


302 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


The  story  is  told  of  Helen  Hunt,  the  famous  author  of  “Ra- 
mona,” that  one  morning  after  church  service  she  found  a purse 
full  of  money  and  told  her  pastor  about  it. 

“Very  well,”  he  said,  “you  keep  it,  and  at  the  evening  serv- 
ice I will  announce  it,”  which  he  did  in  this  wise: 

“This  morning  there  was  found  in  this  church  a purse  filled 
with  money.  If  the  owner  is  present  he  or  she  can  go  to  Helen 
Hunt  for  it.” 

And  the  minister  wondered  why  the  congregation  tittered ! 

A street-car  “masher”  tried  in  every  way  to  attract  the  at- 
tention of  the  pretty  young  girl  opposite  him.  Just  as  he  had 
about  given  up,  the  girl,  entirely  unconscious  of  what  had  been 
going  on,  happened  to  glance  in  his  direction.  The  “masher” 
immediately  took  fresh  courage. 

“It’s  cold  out  to-day,  isn’t  it?”  he  ventured. 

The  girl  smiled  and  nodded  assent,  but  had  nothing  to  say. 

“My  name  is  Specknoodle,”  he  volunteered. 

“Oh,  I am  so  sorry,”  she  said  sympathetically,  as  she  left 
the  car. 

The  comedian  came  on  with  affected  diffidence. 

“At  our  last  stand,”  quoth  he,  “I  noticed  a man  laughing 
while  I was  doing  my  turn.  Honest,  now ! My,  how  he 
laughed ! He  laughed  until  he  split.  Till  he  split,  mind  you. 
Thinks  I to  myself,  I'll  just  find  out  about  the  man  and  so,  when 
the  show  was  over,  I went  up  to  him. 

“‘My  friend,’  says  I,  ‘I’ve  heard  that  there’s  nothing  in  a 
name,  but  are  you  not  one  of  the  Wood  family?’ 

“ ‘I  am,’  says  he,  ‘and  what’s  more,  my  grandfather  was  a 
Pine  !’ 

“No  Wood,  you  know,  splits  any  easier  than  a Pine.” — Ram- 

sey Benson. 

“But  Eliza,”  said  the  mistress,  “your  little  boy  was  christened 
George  Washington.  Why  do  you  call  him  Izaak  Walton? 
Walton,  you  know,  was  the  famous  fisherman.” 

“Yes’m,”  answered  Eliza,  “but  dat  chile’s  repetashun  fo’ 
telling  de  troof  made  dat  change  imper’tive.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


303 


The  mother  of  the  girl  baby,  herself  named  Rachel,  frankly 
told  her  husband  that  she  was  tired  of  the  good  old  names 
borne  by  most  of  the  eminent  members  of  the  family,  and  she 
would  like  to  give  the  little  girl  a name  entirely  different.  Then 
she  wrote  on  a slip  of  paper  “Eugenie,”  and  asked  her  husband 
if  he  didn’t  think  that  was  a pretty  name. 

The  father  studied  the  name  for  a moment  and  then  said: 

“Veil,  call  her  Yousheenie,  but  I don’t  see  vat  you  gain  by  it.” 

There  was  a great  swell  in  Japan, 

Whose  name  on  a Tuesday  began; 

It  lasted  through  Sunday 
Till  twilight  on  Monday, 

And  sounded  like  stones  in  a can. 

He  was  a young  lawyer  who  had  just  started  practicing  in  a 
small  town  and  hung  his  sign  outside  of  his  office  door.  It  read : 
“A.  Swindler.”  A stranger  who  called  to  consult  him  saw  the 
sign  and  said : “My  goodness,  man,  look  at  that  sign ! Don’t 

you  see  how  it  reads?  Put  in  your  first  name — Alexander,  Am- 
brose or  whatever  it  is.” 

“Oh,  yes  I know,”  said  the  lawyer  resignedly,  “but  I don’t 
exactly  like  to  do  it.” 

“Why  not?”  asked  the  client.  “It  looks  mighty  bad  as  it  is. 
What  is  your  first  name?” 

“Adam.” 

Who  hath  not  own’d,  with  rapture-smitten  frame, 

The  power  of  grace,  the  magic  of  a name. 

— Campbell. 


NATIVES 

Friend  (admiring  the  prodigy) — “Seventh  standard,  is  she? 
Plays  the  pianner  an’  talks  French  like  a native,  I’ll  bet.” 

Fond  but  “touchy”  Parent — “I’ve  no  doubt  that’s  meant  to 
be  very  funny,  Bill  Smith ; but  as  it  ’appens  you’re  only  exposin’ 
your  ignorance ; they  ain’t  natives  in  France — they’re  as  white  as 
wot  we  are.” — Sketch. 


304 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


NATURE  LOVERS 

“Would  you  mind  tooting  your  factory  whistle  a little  ?” 

“What  for?” 

“For  my  father  over  yonder  in  the  park.  He’s  a trifle  deaf 
and  he  hasn’t  heard  a robin  this  summer.” 

NAVIGATION 

The  fog  was  dense  and  the  boat  had  stopped  when  the  old 
lady  asked  the  Captain  why  he  didn’t  go  on. 

“Can’t  see  up  the  river,  madam.” 

“But,  Captain,”  she  persisted,  “I  can  see  the  stars  overhead.” 

“Yes,  ma’am,”  said  the  Captain,  “but  until  the  boilers  bust 
we  ain’t  goin’  that  way.” 

NEATNESS 

The  neatness  of  the  New  England  housekeeper  is  a matter  of 
common  remark,  and  husbands  in  that  part  of  the  country  are 
supposed  to  appreciate  their  advantages. 

A bit  of  dialogue  reported  as  follows  shows  that  there  may 
be  another  side  to  the  matter. 

“Martha,  have  you  wiped  the  sink  dry  yet?”  asked  the  farmer, 
as  he  made  final  preparations  for  the  night. 

“Yes,  Josiah,”  she  replied.  “Why  do  you  ask?” 

“Well,  I did  want  a drink,  but  I guess  I can  get  along  until 
morning.” 


NEGROES 

A colored  girl  asked  the  drug  clerk  for  “ten  cents’  wuth  o’ 
cou’t-plaster.” 

“What  color,”  he  asked. 

“Flesh  cullah,  suh.” 

Whereupon  the  clerk  proffered  a box  of  black  court  plaster. 

The  girl  opened  the  box  with  a deliberation  that  was  ominous, 
but  her  face  was  unruffled  as  she  noted  the  color  of  the  contents 
and  said: 

“I  ast  for  flesh  cullah,  an’  you  done  give  me  skin  cullah.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


305 


A cart  containing  a number  of  negro  field  hands  was  be- 
ing drawn  by  a mule.  The  driver,  a darky  of  about  twenty, 
was  endeavoring  to  induce  the  mule  to  increase  its  speed, 
when  suddenly  the  animal  let  fly  with  its  heels  and  dealt  him 
such  a kick  on  the  head  that  he  was  stretched  on  the  ground 
in  a twinkling.  He  lay  rubbing  his  woolly  pate  where  the 
mule  had  kicked  him. 

“Is  he  hurt?”  asked  a stranger  anxiously  of  an  older  negro 
who  had  jumped  from  the  conveyance  and  was  standing  over 
the  prostrate  driver. 

“No,  Boss,”  was  the  older  man’s  reply;  “dat  mule  will  prob- 
ably walk  kind  o’  tendah  for  a day  or  two,  but  he  ain’t  hurt.” 


In  certain  parts  of  the  West  Indies  the  negroes  speak  English 
with  a broad  brogue.  They  are  probably  descended  from  the 
slaves  of  the  Irish  adventurers  who  accompanied  the  Spanish 
settlers. 

A gentleman  from  Dublin  upon  arriving  at  a West  Indian 
port  was  accosted  by  a burly  negro  fruit  vender  with,  “Th, 
top  uv  th’  mornin’  to  ye,  an’  would  ye  be  after  wantin’  to  buy 
a bit  o’  fruit,  sor?” 

The  Irishman  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

“An’  how  long  have  ye  been  here?”  he  finally  asked. 

“Goin’  on  three  months,  yer  Honor,”  said  the  vender,  think- 
ing of  the  time  he  had  left  his  inland  home. 

“Three  months,  is  it?  Only  three  months  an’  as  black  as 
thot?  Faith,  I’ll  not  land!” 

Dinah,  crying  bitterly,  was  coming  down  the  street  with 
her  feet  bandaged. 

“Why,  what  on  earth’s  the  matter?”  she  was  asked.  “How 
did  you  hurt  your  feet,  Dinah?” 

“Dat  good  fo’  nothin’  nigger  [sniffle]  done  hit  me  on  de 
haid  wif  a club  while  I was  standin’  on  de  hard  stone  pave- 
ment.” 


“’Liza,  what  fo’  yo’  buy  dat  udder  box  of  shoe-blacknin’ ?” 
“Go  on,  Nigga’,  dat  ain’t  shoe-blacknin’,  dat’s  ma  massage 
cream !” 


306 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Johnny/'  said  the  mother  as  she  vigorously  scrubbed  the 
small  boy’s  face  with  soap  and  water,  “didn’t  I tell  you  never* 
to  blacken  your  face  again?  Here  I’ve  been  scrubbing  for 
half  an  hour  and  it  won’t  come  off/' 

“I-I — ouch!”  sputtered  the  small  boy;  “I  ain’t  your  little 
boy.  I — ouch!  I’se  Mose,  de  colored  lady’s  little  boy/’ 

The  day  before  she  was  to  be  married  an  old  negro  ser- 
vant came  to  her  mistress  and  intrusted  her  savings  to  her 
keeping. 

“Why  should  I keep  your  money  for  you?  I thought  you 
were  going  to  be  married?”  said  the  mistress. 

“So  I is,  Missus,  but  do  you  ’spose  I’d  keep  all  dis  yer 
money  in  de  house  wid  dat  strange  nigger?” 

A southern  colonel  had  a colored  valet  by  the  name  of 
George.  George  received  nearly  all  the  colonel’s  cast-off  cloth- 
ing. He  had  his  eyes  on  a certain  pair  of  light  trousers  which 
were  not  wearing  out  fast  enough  to  suit  him,  so  he  thought 
he  would  hasten  matters  somewhat  by  rubbing  grease  on  one 
knee.  When  the  colonel  saw  the  spot,  he  called  George  and 
asked  if  he  had  noticed  it.  George  said,  “Yes,  sah,  Colonel, 
I noticed  dat  spot  and  tried  mighty  hard  to  get  it  out,  but  I 
couldn’t.” 

“Have  you  tried  gasoline?”  the  colonel  asked. 

“Yes,  sah,  Colonel,  but  it  didn’t  do  no  good.” 

“Have  you  tried  brown  paper  and  a hot  iron?” 

“Yes,  sah,  Colonel,  I’se  done  tried  ’mos’  everything  I knows 
of,  but  dat  spot  wouldn’t  come  out.” 

“Well,  George,  have  you  tried  ammonia?”  the  colonel  asked 
as  a last  resort. 

“No,  sah,  Colonel,  I ain’t  tried  ’em  on  yet,  but  I knows 
dey’ll  fit.” 


A negro  went  into  a hardware  shop  and  asked  to  be  shown 
some  razors,  and  after  critically  examining  those  submitted  to 
him  the  would-be  purchaser  was  asked  why  he  did  not  try 
a “safety,”  to  which  he  replied:  “I  ain’  lookin’  for  that  kind. 
I wants  this  for  social  purposes.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


307 


Before  a house  where  a colored  man/  had  died,  a small 
darkey  was  standing  erect  at  one  side  of  the  door.  It  was 
about  time  for  the  services  to  begin,  and  the  parson  appeared 
from  within  and  said  to  the  darkey:  “De  services  are  about 
to  begin.  Aren’t  you  a-gwine  in?” 

“I’se  would  if  I’se  could,  parson,”  answered  the  little  negro, 
“but  yo’  see  I’se  de  crape.” 

See  also  Chicken  stealing. 

NEIGHBORS 

The  Man  at  the  Door — “Madame,  I’m  the  piano-tuner.” 

The  Woman — “I  didn’t  send  for  a piano-tuner.” 

The  Man — “I  know  it,  lady;  the  neighbors  did.” 

* NEW  JERSEY 

“You  must  have  had  a terrible  experience  with  no  food,  and 
mosquitoes  swarming  around  you,”  I said  to  the  shipwrecked 
mariner  who  had  been  cast  upon  the  Jersey  sands. 

“You  just  bet  I had  a terrible  experience,”  he  acknowledged. 
“My  experience  was  worse  than  that  of  the  man  who  wrote 
‘Water,  water  everywhere,  but  not  a drop  to  drink.’  With  me 
it  was  bites,  bites  everywhere,  but  not  a bite  to  eat.” 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

At  a convention  of  Methodist  Bishops  held  in  Washington, 
the  Bishop  of  New  York  made  a stirring  address  extolling 
the  powers  and  possibilities  of  his  state.  Bishop  Hamilton, 
of  California,  like  all  good  Californians,  is  imbued  with  the 
conviction  that  it  would  be  hard  to  equal  a place  he  knows 
of  on  the  Pacific,  and  following  the  Bishop  of  New  York  he 
gave  a glowing  picture  of  California,  concluding: 

“Not  only  is  it  the  best  place  on  earth  to  live  in,  but  it 
has  superior  advantages,  too,  as  a place  to  die  in;  for  there 
we  have  at  our  threshold  the  beautiful  Golden  Gate,  while  in 
New  York  they  only  have — well,  you  know  which  gate  it  is 
over  at  New  York!” 


308 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


One  night  Dave  Warfield  was  playing  at  David  Belasco’s 
new  theatre,  supported  by  one  of  Mr.  Belasco’s  new  companies. 
The  performance  ran  with  a smoothness  of  a Standard  Oil  law- 
ver  explaining  rebates  to  a Federal  court.  A worthy  person 
of  the  farming  classes,  sitting  in  G 14,  was  plainly  impressed. 
In  an  interval  between  the  acts  he  turned  to  the  metropolitan 
who  had  the  seat  next  him. 

“Where  do  all  them  troopers  come  from?”  he  inquired. 

“I  don’t  think  I understand,”  said  the  city-dweller. 

“I  mean  them  actors  up  yonder  on  the  stage,”  explained 
the  man  from  afar.  “Was  they  brought  on  specially  for  this 
show,  or  do  they  live  here?” 

“I  believe  most  of  them  live  here  in  town,”  said  the  New 
Yorker. 

“Well,  they  do  purty  blamed  well  for  home  talent,”  said  the 
stranger. 


A traveler  in  Tennessee  came  across  an  aged  negro  seated 
in  front  of  his  cabin  door  basking  in  the  sunshine. 

“He  could  have  walked  right  on  the  stage  for  an  Uncle 
Tom  part  without  a line  of  makeup,”  says  the  traveler.  “He 
must  have  been  eighty  years  of  age.” 

“Good  morning,  uncle,”  says  the  stranger. 

“Mornin’,  sah ! Mornin’,”  said  the  aged  one.  Then  he  added, 
“Be  you  the  gentleman  over  yonder  from  New  York?” 

Being  told  that  such  was  the  case  the  old  darky  said;  “Do 
vou  mind  telling  me  something  that  has  been  botherin’  my  old 
haid?  I have  got  a grandson — he  runs  on  the  Pullman  cyars — 
and  he  done  tell  me  that  up  thar  in  New  York  you-all  burn 
up  youah  folks  when  they  die.  He  is  a poherful  liar,  and  I 
don’t  believe  him.” 

“Yes,”  replied  the  other,  “that  is  the  truth  in  some  cases. 
We  call  it  cremation.” 

“Well,  you  suttenly  surprise  me,”  said  the  negro  and  then 
he  paused  as  if  in  deep  reflection.  Finally  he  said;  “You-all 
know  I am  a Baptist.  I believe  in  the  resurrection  and  the  life 
everlastin’  and  the  coming  of  the  Angel  Gabriel  and  the  blow- 
in’  of  that  great  horn,  and  Lawdy  me,  how  am  they  evah  goin’ 
to  find  them  folks  on  that  great  mawnin’?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


309 


It  was  too  great  a task  for  an  offhand  answer,  and  the  sug- 
gestion was  made  that  the  aged  one  consult  his  minister.  Again 
the  negro  fell  into  a brown  study,  and  then  he  raised  his  head 
and  his  eyes  twinkled  merrily,  and  he  said  in  a soft  voice: 

“Meanin’  no  offense,  sah,  but  from  what  Ah  have  heard 
about  New  York  I kinder  calcerlate  they  is  a lot  of  them  New 
York  people  that  doan’  wanter  be  found  on  that  mornin\” 

NEWS 

Soon  after  the  installation  of  the  telegraph  in  Fredericks- 
burg, Virginia,  a little  darky,  the  son  of  my  father's  mammy, 
saw  a piece  of  newspaper  that  had  blown  up  on  the  telegraph 
wires  and  caught  there.  Running  to  my  grandmother  in  a 
great  state  of  excitement,  he  cried,  “Miss  Liza,  come  quick! 
Dem  wires  done  buss  and  done  let  all  the  news  out !” 

— Sue  M.  M.  Halsey. 

“Our  whole  neighborhood  has  been  stirred  up,”  said  the 
regular  reader. 

The  editor  of  the  country  weekly  seized  his  pen.  “Tell 
me  about  it,”  he  said.  “What  we  want  is  news.  What  stirred 
it  up?” 

“Plowing,”  said  the  farmer. 

There  is  nothing  new  except  what  is  forgotten. 

— Mademoiselle  Bertin. 

NEWSPAPERS 

A kind  old  gentleman  seeing  a small  boy  who  was  carrying 
a lot  of  newspapers  under  his  arm  said : “Don't  all  those  pa- 
pers make  you  tired,  my  boy?” 

“Naw,  I don’t  read  ’em,”  replied  the  lad. 

Vox  Populi — “Do  you  think  you’ve  boosted  your  circula- 
tion by  giving  a year’s  subscription  for  the  biggest  potato  raised 
in  the  county?” 

The  Editor — “Mebbe  not;  but  I got  four  barrels  of  sam- 
ples.” 


3io 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Colonel  Highflyer — “What  are  your  rates  per  column?” 
Editor  of  “Swell  Society” — “For  insertion  or  suppression?” 

—Life. 


Editor — “You  wish  a position  as  a proofreader?” 

Applicant — “Yes,  sir.” 

“Do  you  understand  the  requirements  of  that  responsible 
position?” 

“Perfectly,  sir.  Whenever  you  make  any  mistakes  in  the 
paper,  just  blame  ’em  on  me,  and  I’ll  never  say  a word.” 

A prominent  Montana  newspaper  man  was  making  the 
round  of  the  insane  asylum  of  that  state  in  an  official  capacity 
as  an  inspector.  One  of  the  inmates  mistook  him  for  a re- 
cent arrival. 

“What  made  you  go  crazy?” 

“I  was  trying  to  make  money  out  of  the  newspaper  busi- 
ness,” replied  the  editor,  to  humor  the  demented  one. 

“Rats,  you’re  not  crazy;  you’re  just  a plain  darn  fool,”  was 
the  lunatic’s  comment. 

“Did  you  write  this  report  on  my  lecture,  ‘The  Curse  of 
Whiskey’?” 

“Yes,  madam.” 

“Then  kindly  explain  what  you  mean  by  saying,  ‘The  lec- 
turer was  evidently  full  of  her  subject!’” 

We  clip  the  following  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  doubt 
the  power  of  the  press: 

“Owing  to  the  overcrowded  condition  of  our  columns,  a 
number  of  births  and  deaths  are  unavoidably  postponed  this 
week.”' 

“Binks  has  sued  us  for  libel,”  announced  the  assistant  edi- 
tor of  the  sensational  paper. 

The  managing  editor’s  face  brightened. 

“Tell  him,”  he  said,  “that  if  he  will  put  up  a strong  fight 
we’ll  cheerfully  pay  the  damages  and  charge  them  up  to  the 
advertising  account.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


3u 

Booth  Tarkington  says  that  in  no  state  have  the  newspapers 
more  “journalistic  enterprise”  than  in  his  native  Indiana.  While 
stopping  at  a little  Hoosier  hotel  in  the  course  of  a hunting  trip 
Mr.  Tarkington  lost  one  of  his  dogs. 

“Have  you  a newspaper  in  town?”  he  asked  oi  the  landlord. 

“Right  across  the  way,  there,  back  of  the  shoemaker’s,”  the 
landlord  told  him.  “The  Daily  News — best  little  paper  of  its  size 
in  the  state.” 

The  editor,  the  printer,  and  the  printer’s  devil  were  all  busy 
doing  justice  to  Mr.  Tarkington  with  an  “in-our-midst”  para- 
graph when  the  novelist  arrived. 

“I’ve  just  lost  a dog,”  Tarkington  explained  after  he  had 
introduced  himself,  “and  I’d  like  to  have  you  insert  this  ad  for 
me : ‘Fifty  dollars  reward  for  the  return  of  a pointer  dog 

answering  to  the  name  of  Rex.  Disappeared  from  the  yard  of 
the  Mansion  House  Monday  night.’” 

Why,  we  are  just  going  to  press,  sir,”  the  editor  said,  “but 
we’ll  be  only  too  glad  to  hold  the  edition  for  your  ad.” 

Mr.  Tarkington  returned  to  the  hotel.  After  a few  minutes 
he  decided,  however,  that  it  might  be  well  to  add,  “No  questions 
asked”  to  his  advertisement,  and  returned  to  the  Daily  News 
office. 

The  place  was  deserted,  save  for  the  skinny  little  freckle- 
faced devil,  who  sat  perched  on  a high  stool,  gazing  wistfully 
out  of  the  window. 

“Where  is  everybody?”  Tarkington  asked. 

“Gawn  to  hunt  for  th’  dawg,”  replied  the  boy. 

“You  are  the  greatest  inventor  in  the  world,”  exclaimed  a 
newspaper  man  to  Alexander  Graham  Bell. 

“Oh,  no,  my  friend,  I’m  not,”  said  Professor  Bell.  “I’ve 
never  been  a reporter.” 

Not  long  ago  a city  editor  in  Ottumwa,  Iowa,  was  told  over 
the  telephone  that  a prominent  citizen  had  just  died  suddenly. 
He  called  a reporter  and  told  him  to  rush  out  and  get  the 
“story.”  Twenty  minutes  later  the  reporter  returned,  sat  down 
at  his  desk,  and  began  to  rattle  off  copy  on  his  typewriter. 

“Well,  what  about  it?”  asked  the  city  editor. 

“Oh,  nothing  much,”  replied  the  reporter,  without  looking 


312 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


up.  “He  was  walking  along  the  street  when  he  suddenly  clasped 
his  hands  to  his  heart  and  said,  ‘I’m  going  to  die!’  Then  he 
leaned  up  against  a fence  and  made  good.” 

Enraged  over  something  the  local  newspaper  had  printed 
about  him,  a subscriber  burst  into  the  editor’s  office  in  search  of 
the  responsible  reporter.  “Who  are  you?”  he  demanded,  glaring 
at  the  editor,  who  was  also  the  main  stockholder.  “I’m  the 
newspaper,”  was  the  calm  reply.  “And  who  are  you?”  he  next 
inquired,  turning  his  resentful  gaze  on  the  chocolate-colored 
office-devil  clearing  out  the  waste  basket.  “Me?”  rejoined  the 
darky,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear.  “Ah  guess  ah’s  de  cul’ud  sup- 
plement.” 

Four  hostile  newspapers  are  more  to  be  feared  than  a thousand 
bayonets. — Napoleon  I. 

Newspapers  always  excite  curiosity.  No  one  ever  lays  one 
down  without  a feeling  of  disappointment. — Charles  Lamb. 

OBESITY 

See  Corpulence. 


OBITUARIES 

If  you  have  frequent  fainting  spells,  accompanied  by  chills, 
cramps,  corns,  bunions,  chilblains,  epilepsy  and  jaundice,  it  is  a 
sign  that  you  are  not  well,  but  liable  to  die  any  minute.  Pay 
your  subscription  in  advance  and  thus  make  yourself  solid  for  a 
good  obituary  notice. — Mountain  Echo. 

See  also  Epitaphs. 


OBSERVATION 

In  his  daily  half  hour  confidential  talk  with  his  boy  an  am- 
bitious father  tried  to  give  some  good  advice. 

“Be  observing,  my  son,”  said  the  father  on  one  occasion. 
“Cultivate  the  habit  of  seeing,  and  you  will  be  a successful  man. 
Study  things  and  remember  them.  Don’t  go  through  the  world 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


3i3 


blindly.  Learn  to  use  your  eyes.  Boys  who  are  observing  know 
a great  deal  more  than  those  who  are  not.” 

Willie  listened  in  silence. 

Several  days  later  when  the  entire  family,  consisting  of  his 
mother,  aunt  and  uncle,  were  present,  his  father  said: 

“Well,  Willie,  have  you  kept  using  your  eyes  as  I advised  you 
to  do?” 

Willie  nodded,  and  after  a moment’s  hesitation  said: 

“I’ve  seen  a few  things  right  around  the  house.  Uncle  Jim’s 
got  a bottle  of  hair  dye  hid  under  his  trunk,  Aunt  Jennie’s  got 
an  extra  set  of  teeth  in  her  dresser,  Ma’s  got  some  curls  in  her 
hat,  and  Pa’s  got  a deck  of  cards  and  a box  of  chips  behind  the 
books  in  the  secretary.” 

OCCUPATIONS 

Mrs.  Hennessey,  who  was  a late  arrival  in  the  neighborhood, 
was  entertaining  a neighbor  one  afternoon,  when  the  latter  in- 
quired : 

“An’  what  does  your  old  man  do,  Mrs.  Hennessey?” 

“Sure,  he’s  a di’mond-cuttter.” 

“Ye  don’t  mane  it!” 

Yis ; he  cuts  th’  grass  off  th’  baseball  grounds.” 

— L.  F.  Clarke. 

All  business  men  are  apt  to  use  the  technical  terms  of  their 
daily  labors  in  situations  outside  of  working  hours.  One  time  a 
railroad  man  was  entertaining  his  pastor  at  dinner  and  his  sons, 
who  had  to  wait  until  their  elders  had  finished  got  into  mischief. 
At  the  end  of  the  meal,  their  father  excused  himself  for  a 
moment  saying  he  had  to  “switch  some  empties.” 

“Professor,”  said  Miss  Skylight,  “I  want  you  to  suggest  a 
course  in  life  for  me.  I have  thought  of  journalism ” 

“What  are  your  own  inclinations?” 

“Oh,  my  soul  yearns  and  throbs  and  pulsates  with  an  am- 
bition to  give  the  world  a life-work  that  shall  be  marvelous  in 
its  scope,  and  weirdly  entrancing  in  the  vastness  of  its  structural 
beauty!” 

“Woman,  you’re  born  to  be  a milliner.” 


314 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A woman,  when  asked  her  husband's  occupation,  said  he  was 
a mixologist.  The  city  directory  called  him  a bartender. 

“A  good  turkey  dinner  and  mince  pie,”  said  a well-known 
after-dinner  orator,  “always  puts  us  in  a lethargic  mood — makes 
us  feel,  in  fact,  like  the  natives  of  Nola  Chucky.  In  Nola  Chucky 
one  day  I said  to  a man : 

“ ‘What  is  the  principal  occupation  of  this  town  ?’ 

“ ‘Wall,  boss,'  the  man  answered,  yawning,  ‘in  winter  they 
mostly  sets  on  the  east  side  of  the  house  and  follers  the  sun 
around  to  the  west,  and  in  summer  they  sets  on  the  west  side  and 
follers  the  shade  around  to  the  east.'  ” 

Jones — “How’d  this  happen?  The  last  time  I was  here  you 
were  running  a fish-market,  and  now  you’ve  got  a cheese-shop.” 
Smith — “Yes.  Well,  you  see  the  doctor  said  I needed  a 
change  of  air.” 

The  ugliest  of  trades  have  their  moments  of  pleasure.  Now; 
if  I were  a grave-digger,  or  even  a hangman,  there  are  some 
people  I could  work  for  with  a great  deal  of  enjoyment. 

— Douglas  Jerrold. 


OCEAN 

A resident  of  Nahant  tells  this  one  on  a new  servant  his  wife 
took  down  from  Boston. 

“Did  you  sleep  well,  Mary?”  the  girl  was  asked  the  following 
morning. 

“Sure,  I did  not,  ma’am,”  was  the  reply;  “the  snorin’  of  the 
ocean  kept  me  awake  all  night.” 

Love  the  sea?  I dote  upon  it — from  the  beach. 

— Douglas  Jerrold. 


I never  was  on  the  dull,  tame  shore, 

But  I loved  the  great  sea  more  and  more. 

— Barry  Cornwall. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


3i5 


OFFICE  BOYS 

‘‘Have  you  had  any  experience  as  an  office-boy?” 

“I  should  say  I had,  mister;  why,  I’m  a dummy  director  in 
three  mining-companies  now.” 


OFFICE-SEEKERS 

A gentleman,  not  at  all  wealthy,  who  had  at  one  time  repre- 
sented in  Congress,  through  a couple  of  terms  a district  not  far 
from  the  national  capitol,  moved  to  California  where  in  a year 
or  so  he  rose  to  be  sufficiently  prominent  to  become  a congres- 
sional subject,  and  he  was  visited  by  the  central  committee  of 
his  district  to  be  talked  to. 

“We  want  you,”  said  the  spokesman,  “to  accept  the  nomina- 
tion for  Congress.” 

“I  can’t  do  it,  gentlemen,”  he  responded  promptly. 

“You  must,”  the  spokesman  demanded. 

“But  I can’t,”  he  insisted.  “I’m  too  poor.” 

“Oh,  that  will  be  all  right;  we’ve  got  plenty  of  money  for  the 
campaign.” 

“But  that  is  nothing,”  contended  the  gentleman;  “it’s  the 
expense  in  Washington.  I’ve  been  there,  and  know  all  about  it.” 

“Well  you  didn’t  lose  by  it,  and  it  doesn’t  cost  any  more  be- 
cause you  come  from  California.” 

The  gentleman  became  very  earnest. 

“Doesn’t  it?”  he  exclaimed  in  a business-like  tone.  “Why  my 
dear  sirs,  I used  to  have  to  send  home  every  month  about  half 
a dozen  busted  office-seeker  constituents,  and  the  fare  was  only 
$3  apiece,  and  I could  stand  it,  but  it  would  cost  me  over  $100  a 
head  to  send  them  out  here,  and  I’m  no  millionaire;  therefore, 
as  much  as  I regret  it,  I must  insist  on  declining.” 


“On  a trip  to  Washington,”  said  Col.  W.  F.  Cody.  “I  had 
for  a companion  Sousa,  the  band  leader.  We  had  berths  op- 
posite each  other.  Early  one  morning  as  we  approached  the 
capital  I thought  I would  have  a little  fun.  I got  a morning  pa- 
per, and,  after  rustling  it  a few  minutes,  I said  to  Sousa: 


3i6 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“ ‘That’s  the  greatest  order  Cleveland  has  just  issued!' 

'“What’s  that?’  came  from  the  opposite  berth. 

“ ‘Why  he’s  ordered  all  the  office-seekers  rounded  up  at  the 
depot  and  sent  home.’ 

“You  should  have  seen  the  general  consternation  that  ensued. 
From  almost  every  berth  on  the  car  a head  came  out  from  be- 
tween the  curtains,  and  with  one  accord  nearly  every  man 
shouted : 

“‘What's  that?'" 


OLD  AGE 

See  Age. 

OLD  MASTERS 

See  Paintings. 

ONIONS 

Can  the  Burbanks  of  the  glorious  West 
Either  make  or  buy  or  sell 
An  onion  with  an  onion’s  taste 
But  with  a violet’s  smell? 

She — “They  say  that  an  apple  a day  will  keep  the  doctor 
away." 

He — “Why  stop  there?  An  onion  a day  will  keep  everybody 
away." 

OPERA 

“Which  do  you  consider  the  most  melodious  Wagnerian 
opera?"  asked  Mrs.  Cumrox. 

“There  are  several  I haven't  heard,  aren’t  there?"  rejoined 
her  husband. 

“Yes." 

“Then  I guess  it's  one  of  them." 

OPPORTUNITY 

Many  a man  creates  his  own  lack  of  opportunities. — Life. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


3i  7 


Who  seeks,  and  will  not  take  when  once  ’tis  offer'd, 

Shall  never  find  it  more. 

— Shakespeare . 


In  life’s  small  things  be  resolute  and  great 

To  keep  thy  muscles  trained;  know’st  thou  when  fate 

Thy  measure  takes?  or  when  she’ll  say  to  thee, 

“I  find  thee  worthy,  do  this  thing  for  me!” 

— Emerson. 


OPTIMISM 

Optimism  is  Worry  on  a spree. — Judge. 

An  optimist  is  a man  who  doesn’t  care  what  happens  just 
so  is  doesnt’  happen  to  him. 

An  optimist  is  the  fellow  who  doesn’t  know  what’s  coming 
to  him. — /.  J.  O’Connell. 

An  optimist  is  a woman  who  thinks  that  everything  is  for 
the  best,  and  that  she  is  the  best. — Judge. 

A political  optimist  is  a fellow  who  can  make  sweet,  pink 
lemonade  out  of  the  bitter  yellow  fruit  which  his  opponents 
hand  him. 

Mayor  William  S.  Jordan,  at  a Democratic  banquet  in  Jack- 
sonville, said  of  optimism : 

“Let  us  cultivate  optimism  and  hopefulness.  There  is  nothing 
like  it.  The  optimistic  man  can  see  a bright  side  to  everything 
—everything. 

“A  missionary  in  a slum  once  laid  his  hand  on  a man’s 
shoulder  and  said : 

“ ‘Friend,  do  you  hear  the  solemn  ticking  of  that  clock? 
Tick-tack;  tick-tack.  And  oh,  friend,  do  you  know  what  day 
it  inexorably  and  relentlessly  brings  nearer?” 

“ ‘Yes — pay  day,’  the  other,  an  honest,  optimistic  working- 
man, replied.” 


318 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A Scotsman  who  has  a keen  appreciation  of  the  strong 
characteristics  of  his  countrymen  delights  in  the  story  of  a 
druggist  known  both  for  his  thrift  and  his  philosophy. 

Once  he  was  aroused  from  a deep  sleep  by  the  ringing  of 
his  night  bell.  He  went  down  to  his  little  shop  and  sold  a dose 
of  rather  nauseous  medicine  to  a distressed  customer. 

“What  profit  do  you  make  out  o’  that?”  grumbled  his  wife. 

“A  ha'penny,”  was  the  cheerful  answer. 

“And  for  that  bit  of  money  you’ll  lie  awake  maybe  an 
hour,”  she  said  impatiently. 

“Never  grumble  o’er  that,  woman,”  was  his  placid  answer. 
“The  dose  will  keep  him  awake  all  night.  We  must  thank 
heaven  we  ha’  the  profit  and  none  o’  the  pain  o’  this  trans- 
action.” 

A German  shoemaker  left  the  gas  turned  on  in  his  shop  one 
night  and  upon  arriving  in  the  morning  struck  a match  to  light 
it. 

There  was  a terrific  explosion,  and  the  shoemaker  was 
blown  out  through  the  door  almost  to  the  middle  of  the  street. 

A passer-by  rushed  to  his  assistance,  and,  after  helping  him 
to  rise,  inquired  if  he  was  injured. 

The  little  German  gazed  at  his  place  of  business,  which 
was  now  burning  quite  briskly,  and  said: 

“No,  I ain’t  hurt.  But  I got  out  shust  in  time,  eh?” 

My  own  hope  is,  a sun  will  pierce 
The  thickest  cloud  earth  ever  stretched; 

That,  after  Last,  returns  the  First, 

Tho’  a wide  compass  round  be  fetched; 

That  what  began  best,  can’t  prove  worst, 

Nor  what  God  blessed  once,  prove  accursed. 

— Browning. 

ORATORS 

It  is  narrated  that  Colonel  Breckenridge,  meeting  Majah 
Buffo’d  on  the  streets  of  Lexington  one  day  asked:  “What’s  the 
meaning,  suh,  of  the  conco’s  befor’  the  co’t  house?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


3i9 


To  which  the  majah  replied: 

“General  Buckneh  is  making  a speech.  General  Buckneh, 
suh,  is  a bo’n  oratah.,, 

“What  do  you  mean  by  bo’n  oratah?” 

“If  you  or  I,  suh,  were  asked  how  much  two  and  two  make, 
we  would  reply  ‘foh.’  When  this  is  asked  of  a bo’n  oratah, 
he  replies : ‘When  in  the  co’se  of  human  events  it  becomes 
necessary  to  take  an  integah  of  the  second  denomination  and 
add  it,  suh,  to  an  integah  of  the  same  denomination,  the  re- 
sult, suh and  I have  the  science  of  mathematics  to  back  me 

up  in  my  judgment — the  result,  suh,  and  I say  it  without  feah 
of  successful  contradiction,  suh — the  result  is  foV  That’s  a 
bo’n  oratah.” 

When  Demosthenes  was  asked  what  was  the  first  part  of 
Oratory,  he  answered,  “Action,”  and  which  was  the  second,  he 
replied,  “Action,”  and  which  was  the  third,  he  still  answered 
“Action.” — Plutarch. 


OUTDOOR  LIFE 

One  day,  in  the  spring  of  ’74,  Cap  Smith’s  freight  outfit 
pulled  into  Helena,  Montana.  After  unloading  the  freight, 
the  “mule-skinners,”  to  a man,  repaired  to  the  Combination 
Gambling  House  and  proceeded  to  load  themselves.  Late  in 
the  afternoon,  Zeb  White,  Smith’s  oldest  skinner,  having  ex- 
changed all  of  his  hard  coin  for  liquid  refreshment,  zigzagged 
into  the  corral,  crawled  under  a wagon,  and  went  to  sleep. 
After  supper,  Smith,  making  his  nightly  rounds,  happened  on 
the  sleeping  Zeb. 

“Kinder  chilly,  ain’t  it?”  he  asked,  after  earnestly  prodding 
Zeb  with  a convenient  stick. 

“I  reckon  ’tis,”  Zeb  drowsily  mumbled. 

“Ain’t  yer  ’fraid  ye’ll  freeze?” 

“’Tis  cold,  ain’t  it?  Say,  Cap,  jest  throw  on  another  wagon, 
will  yer?” 


PAINTING 


See  Art. 


320 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PAINTINGS 

She  had  engaged  a maid  recently  from  the  country,  and 
was  now  employed  in  showing  her  newly  acquired  treasure 
over  the  house  and  enlightening  her  in  regard  to  various  du- 
ties, etc.  At  last  they  reached  the  best  room.  “These,”  said 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  pausing  before  an  extensive  row  of 
masculine  portraits,  “are  very  valuable,  and  you  must  be  very 
careful  when  dusting.  They  are  old  masters.”  Mary’s  jaw 
dropped,  and  a look  of  intense  wonder  overspread  her  rubicund 
face. 

“Lor’,  mum,”  she  gasped,  gazing  with  bulging  eyes  on  the 
face  of  her  new  employer,  “lor’,  mum,  who’d  ever  ’ave  thought 
you’d  been  married  all  these  times!” 

A picture  is  a poem  without  words. — Cornificus. 

PANICS 

One  night  at  a theatre  some  scenery  took  fire,  and  a very 
perceptible  odor  of  burning  alarmed  the  spectators.  A panic 
seemed  to  be  imminent,  when  an  actor  appeared  on  the  stage. 

“Ladies  and  gentlemen,”  he  said,  “compose  yourselves.  There 
is  no  danger.” 

The  audience  did  not  seem  reassured. 

“Ladies  and  gentlemen,”  continued  the  comedian,  rising  to 
the  necessity  of  the  occasion,  “confound  it  all — do  you  think 
if  there  was  any  danger  I’d  be  here?” 

The  panic  collapsed. 


PARENTS 

William,  aged  five,  had  been  reprimanded  by  his  father  for 
interrupting  while  his  father  was  telling  his  mother  about  the 
new  telephone  for  their  house.  He  sulked  awhile,  then  went 
to  his  mother,  and,  patting  her  on  the  cheeks,  said,  “Mother 
dear,  I love  you.” 

“Don’t  you  love  me  too?”  asked  his  father. 

Without  glancing  at  him,  William  said  disdainfully,  “The 
wire’s  busy.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


321 


“What  does  your  mother  say  when  you  tell  her  those  dread- 
ful lies?” 

“She  says  I take  after  father.” 

“A  little  lad  was  desperately  ill,  but  refused  to  take  the 
medicine  the  doctor  had  left.  At  last  his  mother  gave  him 
up. 

“Oh,  my  boy  will  die;  my  boy  will  die,”  she  sobbed. 

But  a voice  spoke  from  the  bed,  “Don’t  cry,  mother.  Fa- 
ther’ll be  home  soon  and  he’ll  make  me  take  it.” 

Mrs.  White  was  undoubtedly  the  disciplinarian  of  the  family. 
The  master  of  the  house,  a professor,  and  consequently  a very 
busy  man,  was  regarded  by  the  children  as  one  of  themselves, 
subject  to  the  la;ws  of  “Mother.” 

Mrs.  White  had  been  ill  for  some  weeks  and  although  the 
father  felt  that  the  children  were  showing  evidence  of  running 
wild,  he  seemed  powerless  to  correct  the  fault.  One  evening 
at  dinner,  however,  he  felt  obliged  to  reprimand  Marion  se- 
verely. 

“Marion,”  he  said,  sternly,  “stop  that  at  once,  or  I shall 
take  you  from  the  table  and  punish  you  soundly.” 

He  experienced  a feeling  of  profound  satisfaction  in  being 
able  to  thus  reprove  when  it  was  necessary  and  glanced  a- 
cross  the  table  expecting  to  see  a very  demure  little  miss.  In- 
stead, Marion  and  her  little  brother  exchanged  glances  and 
then  simultaneously  a grin  overspread  their  faces,  while  Marion 
said  in  a mirthful  tone: 

“Oh,  Francis,  hear  father  trying  to  talk  like  mother!” 

Robert  has  lately  acquired  a stepmother.  Hoping  to  win 
his  affection  this  new  parent  has  been  very  lenient  with  him, 
while  his  father,  feeling  his  responsibility,  has  been  unusually 
strict.  The  boys  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  taken  pains 
to  warn  Robert  of  the  terrible  character  of  stepmothers  in 
general,  recently  waited  on  him  in  a body,  and  the  following 
conversation  was  overheard: 

“How  do  you  like  your  stepmother,  Bob?” 

“Like  her!  Why  fellers,  I just  love  her.  All  I wish  is  I had 
a stepfather,  too.” 


322 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Well,  Bobby,  what  do  you  want  to  be  when  you  grow  up?” 

Bobby  (remembering  private  seance  in  the  wood-shed)  — 
“A  orphan.” 

Little  Eleanor’s  mother  was  an  American,  while  her  father 
was  a German. 

One  day,  after  Eleanor  had  been  subjected  to  rather  severe 
disciplinary  measures  at  the  hands  of  her  father,  she  called  her 
mother  into  another  room,  closed  the  door  significantly,  and 
said : “Mother,  I don’t  want  to  meddle  in  your  business,  but 
I wish  you’d  send  that  husband  of  yours  back  to  Germany.” 

The  lawyer  was  sitting  at  his  desk  absorbed  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  a brief.  So  bent  was  he  on  his  work  that  he  did  not 
hear  the  door  as  it  was  pushed  gently  open,  nor  see  the  curly 
head  that  was  thrust  into  his  office.  A little  sob  attracted  his 
notice,  and,  turning  he  saw  a face  that  was  streaked  with  tears 
and  told  plainly  that  feelings  had  been  hurt. 

“Well,  my  little  man,  did  you  want  to  see  me?” 

“Are  you  a lawyer?” 

“Yes.  What  do  you  want?” 

“I  want” — and  there  was  resolute  ring  in  his  voice — “I 
want  a divorce  from  my  papa  and  mama.” 

PARROTS 

Pat  had  but  a limited  knowledge  of  the  bird  kingdom.  One 
day,  walking  down  the  street,  he  noticed  a green  bird  in  a 
cage,  talking  and  singing.  Thinking  to  pet  it  he  stroked  its 
head.  The  bird  turned  quickly,  screaming,  “Hello ! What  do 
you  want?”  Pat  shied  off  like  a frightened  horse,  lifting  his 
hat  and  bowing  politely  as  he  stuttered  out:  “Ex-excuse  me 
s-sir,  I thought  you  was  a burrd !” 

PARTNERSHIP 

A West  Virginia  darky,  a blacksmith,  recently  announced 
a change  in  his  business  as  follows : “Notice — De  co-pardner- 
ship  heretofore  resisting  between  me  and  Mose  Skinner  is  here- 
by resolved.  Dem  what  owe  de  firm  will  settle  wid  me,  and 
dem  what  de  firm  owes  will  settle  wid  Mose.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


32  3 


PASSWORDS 

“I  want  to  change  my  password,”  said  the  man  who  had 
for  two  years  rented  a safety-deposit  box. 

“Very  well,”  replied  the  man  in  charge.  “What  is  the  old 
one?” 

“Gladys.” 

“And  what  do  you  wish  the  new  one  to  be?” 

“Mabel.  Gladys  has  gone  to  Reno.” 

Senator  Tillman  not  long  ago  piloted  a plain  farmer-consti- 
tuent around  the  Capitol  for  a while,  and  then,  having  some 
work  to  do  on  the  floor,  conducted  him  to  the  Senate  gallery. 

After  an  hour  or  so  the  visitor  approached  a gallery  door- 
keeper and  said : “My  name  is  Swate.  I am  a friend  of  Senator 
Tillman.  He  brought  me  here  and  I want  to  go  out  and  look 
around  a bit.  I though  I would  tell  you  so  I can  get  back  in.” 
“That’s  all  right,”  said  the  doorkeeper,  “but  I may  not  be 
here  when  you  return.  In  order  to  prevent  any  mistake  I will 
give  you  the  password  so  you  can  get  your  seat  again.” 

Swate’s  eyes  rather  popped  out  at  this.  “What's  the  word?” 
he  asked. 

“Idiosyncrasy.” 

“What?” 

“Idiosyncrasy.” 

“I  guess  I’ll  stay  in,”  said  Swate. 

PATIENCE 

“Your  husband  seems  to  be  very  impatient  lately.” 

“Yes,  he  is,  very.” 

“What  is  the  matter  with  him?” 

“He  is  getting  tired  waiting  for  a chance  to  get  out  where 
he  can  sit  patiently  hour  after  hour  waiting  for  a fish  to  nibble 
at  his  bait.” 


PATRIOTISM 

General  Gordon,  the  Confederate  commander,  used  to  tell 
the  following  story:  He  was  sitting  by  the  roadside  one  blaz- 


324 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ing  hot  day  when  a dilapidated  soldier,  his  clothing  in  rags, 
a shoe  lacking,  his  head  bandaged,  and  his  arm  in  a sling,  passed 
him.  He  was  soliloquizing  in  this  manner: 

“I  love  my  country.  I’d  fight  for  my  country.  I’d  starve 
and  go  thirsty  for  my  country.  I’d  die  for  my  country.  But 
if  ever  this  damn  war  is  over  I’ll  never  love  another  coun- 
try !”  ’ 


A snobbish  young  Englishman  visiting  Washington’s  home 
at  Mount  Vernon  was  so  patronizing  as  to  arouse  the  wrath 
of  guards  and  caretakers;  but  it  remained  for  “Shep”  Wright, 
an  aged  gardener  and  one  of  the  first  scouts  of  the  Confed- 
erate army,  to  settle  the  gentleman.  Approaching  ‘‘Shep,”  the 
Englishman  said: 

'‘Ah — er — my  man,  the  hedge!  Yes,  I see,  George  got  this 
hedge  from  dear  old  England.” 

“Reckon  he  did,”  replied  “Shep.”  “He  got  this  whole  bloom- 
ing country  from  England.” 

Speaking  of  the  policy  of  the  Government  of  the  United 
States  with  respect  to  its  troublesome  neighbors  in  Central  and 
South  America,  “Uncle  Joe”  Cannon  told  of  a Missouri  con- 
gressman who  is  decidedly  opposed  to  any  interference  in  this 
regard  by  our  country.  It  seems  that  this  spring  the  Missourian 
met  an  Englishman  at  Washington  with  whom  he  conversed 
touching  affairs  in  the  localities  mentioned.  The  westerner  as- 
serted his  usual  views  with  considerable  forcefulness,  winding 
up  with  this  observation: 

“The  whole  trouble  is  that  we  Americans  need  a good 

licking !” 

“You  do,  indeed!”  promptly  asserted  the  Britisher,  as  if 
pleased  by  the  admission.  But  his  exultation  was  of  brief  du- 
ration, for  the  Missouri  man  immediately  concluded  with: 

“But  there  ain’t  nobody  can  do  it!” 

A number  of  Confederate  prisoners,  during  the  Civil  War, 
were  detained  at  one  of  the  western  military  posts  under  con- 
ditions much  less  unpleasant  than  those  to  be  found  in  the  or- 
dinary military  prison.  Most  of  them  appreciated  their  com- 
paratively good  fortune.  One  young  fellow,  though,  could  not 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


325 


be  reconciled  to  association  with  Yankees  under  any  circum- 
stances, and  took  advantage  of  every  opportunity  to  express 
his  feelings.  He  was  continually  rubbing  it  in  about  the  bat- 
tle of  Chickamauga,  which  had  just  been  fought  with  such 
disastrous  results  for  the  Union  forces. 

“Maybe  we  didn’t  eat  you  up  at  Chickamauga!”  was  the 
way  he  generally  greeted  a bluecoat. 

The  Union  men,  when  they  could  stand  it  no  longer,  report- 
ed the  matter  to  General  Grant.  Grant  summoned  the  prisoner. 

“See  here,”  said  Grant,  “I  understand  that  you  are  continual- 
ly insulting  the  men  here  with  reference  to  the  battle  of  Chick- 
amauga. They  have  borne  with  you  long  enough,  and  I’m 
going  to  give  you  your  choice  of  two  things.  You  will  either 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States,  or  be  sent 
to  a Northern  prison.  Choose.” 

The  prisoner  was  silent  for  some  time.  “Well,”  he  said  at 
last,  in  a resigned  tone,  “I  reckon,  General,  I’ll  take  the  oath.” 

The  oath  was  duly  administered.  Turning  to  Grant,  the 
fellow  then  asked,  very  penitently,  if  he  might  speak. 

“Yes,”  said  the  general  indifferently.  “What  is  it?” 

“Why,  I was  just  thinkin’,  General,”  he  drawled,  “they 
certainly  did  give  us  hell  at  Chickamauga.” 

Historical  controversies  are  creeping  into  the  schools.  In  a 
New  York  public  institution  attended  by  many  races,  during  an 
examination  in  history  the  teacher  asked  a little  chap  who  dis- 
covered America. 

He  was  evidently  thrown  into  a panic  and  hesitated,  much 
to  the  teacher’s  surprise,  to  make  any  reply. 

“Oh,  please,  ma’am,”  he  finally  stammered,  “ask  me  some- 
thin’ else.” 

“Something  else,  Jimmy?  Why  should  J dc  that?” 

“The  fellers  was  talkin’  ’bout  it  yesterday,”  replied  Jimmy. 
“Pat  McGee  said  it  was  discovered  by  an  Irish  saint.  Olaf, 
he  said  it  was  a sailor  from  Norway,  and  Giovanni  said  it  was 
Columbus,  an’  if  you’d  a-seen  what  happened  you  wouldn’t  ask 
a little  feller  like  me.” 

Our  country!  When  right  to  be  kept  right;  when  wrong  to 
be  put  right! — Carl  Schurz. 


326 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Our  country!  In  her  intercourse  with  foreign  nations,  may 
she  always  be  in  the  right;  but  our  country,  right  or  wrong. 

— Stephen  Decatur. 

There  are  no  points  of  the  compass  on  the  chart  of  true 
patriotism. — Robert  C.  Wintkrop. 

Patriotic  exercises  and  flag  worship  will  avail  nothing  un- 
less the  states  give  to  their  people  of  the  kind  of  government 
that  arouses  patriotism. — Franklin  Pierce  II. 

PENSIONS 

Willis — “I  wonder  if  there  will  ever  be  universal  peace.” 

Gillis — “Sure.  All  they’ve  got  to  do  is  to  get  the  nations 
to  agree  that  in  case  of  war  the  winner  pays  the  pensions.” 

— Puck. 


“Why  was  it  you  never  married  again,  Aunt  Sallie?”  in- 
quired Mrs.  McClane  of  an  old  colored  woman  in  West  Vir- 
ginia. 

“’Deed,  Miss  Ellie,”  replied  the  old  woman  earnestly,  “dat 
daid  nigger’s  wuth  moah  to  me  dan  a live  one.  I gits  a pen- 
sion.”— Edith  Howell  Armor. 

If  England  had  a system  of  pensions  like  ours,  we  should 
see  that  “all  that  was  left  of  the  Noble  Six  Hundred”  was 
six  thousand  pensioners. 


PESSIMISM 

A pessimist  is  a man  who  lives  with  an  optimist. — Francis 
Wilson. 


How  happy  are  the  Pessimists ! 

A bliss  without  alloy 
Is  theirs  when  they  have  proved  to  us 
There’s  no  such  thing  as  joy! 

— Harold  S us  man. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


327 


A pessimist  is  one  who,  of  two  evils,  chooses  them  both. 

“I  had  a mighty  queer  surprise  this  morning,”  remarked 
a local  stock  broker.  “I  put  on  my  last  summer’s  thin  suit  on 
account  of  this  extraordinary  hot  weather,  and  in  one  of  the 
trousers  pockets  I found  a big  roll  of  bills  which  I had  entirely 
forgotten.” 

“Were  any  of  them  receipted  ?”asked  a pessimist. 


To  tell  men  that  they  cannot  help  themselves  is  to  fling 
them  into  recklessness  and  despair. — Froude. 

With  earth’s  first  clay  they  did  the  last  man  knead, 

And  there  of  the  last  harvest  sowed  the  seed: 

And  the  first  morning  of  creation  wrote 
What  the  last  dawn  of  reckoning  shall  read. 

Yesterday  this  day’s  madness  did  prepare; 

Tomorrow’s  silence,  triumph,  or  despair. 

Drink!  For  you  know  not  whence  you  came,  nor  why; 
Drink!  For  you  know  not  why  you  go,  nor  where. 

— Omar  Khayyam 

PHILADELPHIA 

A Staten  Island  man,  when  the  mosquitoes  began  to  get  busy 
in  the  borough  across  the  bay,  has  been  in  the  habit  every  sum- 
mer of  transplanting  his  family  to  the  Delaware  Water  Gap 
for  a few  weeks.  They  were  discussing  their  plans  the  other 
day,  when  the  oldest  boy,  aged  eight,  looked  up  from  his 
geography  and  said: 

“Pop,  Philadelphia  is  on  the  Delaware  River,  isn’t  >t?” 

Pop  replied  that  such  was  the  case. 

“I  wonder  if  that’s  what  makes  the  Delaware  Water  Gap?” 
insinuated  the  youngster. — Y.  Y.  Stinson. 


Among  the  guests  at  an  informal  dinner  in  New  York  was 
a bright  Philadelphia  girl. 


328 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“These  are  snails,”  said  a gentleman  next  to  her,  when  the 
dainty  was  served.  “I  suppose  Philadelphia  people  don’t  eat 
them  for  fear  of  cannibalism.” 

“Oh,  no,”  was  her  instant  reply;  “it  isn’t  that.  We  couldn’t 
catch  them.” 

PHILANTHROPISTS 

Little  grains  of  short  weight, 

Little  crooked  twists, 

Fill  the  land  with  magnates 
And  philanthropists. 

See  also  Charity. 


PHILOSOPHY 

Philosophy  is  finding  out  how  many  things  there  are  in  the 
world  which  you  can’t  have  if  you  want  them,  and  don’t  want 
if  you  can  have  them. — Puck . 

PHYSICIANS  AND  SURGEONS 

The  eight-year-old  son  of  a Baltimore  physician,  together 
with  a friend,  was  playing  in  his  father’s  office,  during  the 
absence  of  the  doctor,  when  suddenly  the  first  lad  threw  open 
a closet  door  and  disclosed  to  the  terrified  gaze  of  his  little 
friend  an  articulated  skeleton. 

When  the  visitor  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  shock 
to  stand  the  announcement  the  doctor’s  son  explained  that  his 
father  was  extremely  proud  of  that  skeleton. 

“Is  he?”  asked  the  other.  “Why?” 

“I  don’t  know,”  was  the  answer;  “maybe  it  was  his  first 
patient.” 

The  doctor  stood  by  the  bedside,  and  looked  gravely  down 
at  the  sick  man. 

“I  can  not  hide  from  you  the  fact  that  you  are  very  ill,” 
he  said.  “Is  there  any  one  you  would  like  to  see?” 

“Yes,”  said  the  sufferer  faintly. 

“Who  is  it?” 

“Another  doctor.” — Judge . 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


329 


“Doctor,  I want  you  to  look  after  my  office  while  I’m  on 
my  vacation.” 

“But  I’ve  just  graduated,  doctor.  Have  had  no  experience.” 

“That’s  all  right,  my  boy.  My  practice  is  strictly  fashion- 
able. Tell  the  men  to  play  golf  and  ship  the  lady  patients  off 
to  Europe.” 

An  old  darky  once  lay  seriously  ill  of  fever  and  was  treated 
for  a long  time  by  one  doctor,  and  then  another  doctor,  for 
some  reason,  came  and  took  the  first  one’s  place.  The  sec- 
ond physician  made  a thorough  examination  of  the  patient. 
At  the  end  he  said,  “Did  the  other  doctor  take  your  temper- 
ature?” 

“Ah  dunno,  sah,”  the  patient  answered.  “Ah  hain’t  missed 
nuthin’  so  far  but  mah  watch.” 

There  had  been  an  epidemic  of  colds  in  the  town,  and  one 
physician  who  had  had  scarcely  any  sleep  for  two  days  called 
upon  a patient — an  Irishman — who  was  suffering  from  pneu- 
monia, and  as  he  leaned  over  to  hear  the  patient’s  respiration 
he  called  upon  Pat  to  count. 

The  doctor  was  so  fatigued  that  he  fell  asleep,  with  his 
ear  on  the  sick  man’s  chest.  It  seemed  but  a minute  when  he 
suddenly  awoke  to  hear  Pat  still  counting:  “Tin  thousand  an’ 
sivinty-six,  tin  thousand  an’  sivinty-sivin ” 

First  Doctor — “I  operated  on  him  for  appendicitis.” 

Second  Doctor — “What  was  the  matter  with  him?” — Life. 

Fussy  Lady  Patient — “I  was  suffering  so  much,  doctor,  that 
I wanted  to  die.” 

Doctor — “You  did  right  to  call  me  in,  dear  lady.” 

Medical  Student — “What  did  you  operate  on  that  man  for?” 

Eminent  Surgeon — “Two  hundred  dollars.” 

Medical  Student — “I  mean  what  did  he  have?” 

Eminent  Surgeon— “Two  hundred  dollars.” 

The  three  degrees  in  medical  treatment — Positive,  ill;  com- 
parative, pill;  superlative,  bill. 


330 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“What  caused  the  coolness  between  you  and  that  young 
doctor?  I thought  you  were  engaged.” 

“His  writing  is  rather  illegible.  He  sent  me  a note  calling 
for  10,000  kisses.” 

“Well?” 

“I  thought  it  was  a prescription,  and  took  it  to  the  druggist 
to  be  filled.” 

A tourist  while  traveling  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  far  away 
from  anywhere,  exclaimed  to  one  of  the  natives:  “Why,  what 
do  you  do  when  any  of  you  are  ill?  You  can  never  get  a 
doctor.” 

“Nae,  sir,”  replied  Sandy.  “We’ve  jist  to  dee  a naitural 
death.” 

When  the  physician  gives  you  medicine  and  tells  you  to 
take  it,  you  take  it.  “Yours  not  to  reason  why;  yours  but  to 
do  and  die.” 

Physicians,  of  all  men,  are  most  happy:  whatever  good  suc- 
cess soever  they  have,  the  world  proclaimeth;  and  what  faults 
they  commit,  the  earth  covereth. — Quarles. 

This  is  the  way  that  physicians  mend  or  end  us, 
Secundum  artem:  but  although  we  sneer 
In  health — when  ill,  we  call  them  to  attend  us, 

Without  the  least  propensity  to  jeer. 

— Byron. 

See  also  Bills. 


PICKPOCKETS  . 

See  Thieves;  Wives. 

PINS 

“Oh,  dear!”  sighed  the  wife  as  she  was  dressing  for  a din- 
ner-party, “I  can’t  find  a pin  anywhere.  I wonder  where  all 
the  pins  go  to,  anyway?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


331 

“That's  a difficult  question  to  answer,"  replied  her  hus- 
band, “because  they  are  always  pointed  in  one  direction  and 
headed  in  another." 


PITTSBURG 

“How  about  that  airship?" 

“It  went  up  in  smoke." 

“Burned,  eh?" 

“Oh,  no.  Made  an  ascension  at  Pittsburg." 


Skybough — “Why  have  you  put  that  vacuum  cleaner  in  front 
of  your  airship?" 

Kloudleigh — “To  clear  a path.  I have  an  engagement  to 
sail  over  Pittsburg." 


A man  just  back  from  South  America  was  describing  a 
volcanic  disturbance. 

“I  was  smoking  a cigar  before  the  door  of  my  hotel,"  said 
he,  “when  I was  startled  by  a rather  violent  earthquake.  The 
next  instant  the  sun  was  obscured  and  darkness  settled  over 
the  city.  Looking  in  the  direction  of  the  distant  volcano,  I 
saw  heavy  clouds  of  smoke  rolling  from  it,  with  an  occasional 
tongue  of  flame  flashing  against  the  dark  sky. 

“Some  of  the  natives  about  me  were  on  their  knees  pray- 
ing; others  darted  aimlessly  about,  crazed  with  terror  and  shout- 
ing for  mercy.  The  landlord  of  the  hotel  rushed  out  and  seized 
me  by  the  arm. 

“‘To  the  harbor!’  he  cried  in  my  ear. 

“Together  w6  hurried  down  the  narrow  street.  As  we 
panted  along,  the  dark  smoke  whirled  in  our  faces,  and  a dan- 
gerous shower  of  red-hot  cinders  sizzled  about  us.  Do  you 
know,  I don’t  believe  I was  ever  so  homesick  in  all  my  life !” 

“Homesick?"  gasped  the  listener.  “Homesick  at  a time  like 
that?" 

“Sure.  I live  in  Pittsburg,  you  know." 


332 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PLAY 

The  mother  heard  a great  commotion,  as  of  cyclones  mixed 
up  with  battering-rams,  and  she  hurried  upstairs  to  discover 
what  was  the  matter.  There  she  found  Tommie  sitting  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  with  a broad  smile  on  his  face. 

“Oh,  Mama,”  said  he  delightedly,  “Fve  locked  Grandpa  and 
Uncle  George  in  the  cupboard,  and  when  they  get  a little  an- 
grier I am  going  to  play  Daniel  in  the  lion’s  den.” 


PLEASURE 

Billy — “Huh ! I bet  you  didn’t  have  a good  time  at  your 
birthday  party  yesterday.” 

Willie— “I  bet  I did.” 

Billy — “Then  why  ain’t  you  sick  today?” 

Winnie  had  been  very  naughty,  and  her  mamma  said:  “Don’t 
you  know  you  will  never  go  to  Heaven  if  you  are  so  naughty?” 
After  thinking  a moment  she  said:  “Oh,  well,  I have  been 
to  the  circus  once  and  ‘Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin1  twice.  I can’t  expect 
to  go  everywhere.” 

In  Concord,  New  Hampshire,  they  tell  of  an  old  chap  who 
made  his  wife  keep  a cash  account.  Each  week  he  would  go 
over  it,  growling  and  grumbling.  On  one  such  occasion  he 
delivered  himself  of  the  following: 

“Look  here,  Sarah,  mustard-plasters,  fifty  cents;  three  teeth 
extracted,  two  dollars!  There’s  two  dollars  and  a half  in  one 
week  spent  for  your  own  private  pleasure.  Do  you  think  I 
am  made  of  money?” 

Here’s  to  beauty,  wit  and  wine  and  to  a full  stomach,  a full 
purse  and  a light  heart. 

A dinner,  coffee  and  cigars, 

Of  friends,  a half  a score. 

Each  favorite  vintage  in  its  turn, — 

What  man  could  wish  for  more? 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


333 


The  roses  of  pleasure  seldom  last  long  enough  to  adorn  the 
brow  of  him  who  plucks  them ; for  they  are  the  only  roses 
which  do  not  retain  their  sweetness  after  they  have  lost  their 
beauty. — Hannah  More. 

See  also  Amusements. 

POETRY 

Poetry  is  a gift  we  are  told,  but  most  editors  won’t  take  it 
even  at  that. 

POETS 

Editor — “Have  you  submitted  this  poem  anywhere  else?” 

Jokesmith — “No,  sir.” 

Editor — “Then  where  did  you  get  that  black  eye?” — Satire. 

“Why  is  it,”  asked  the  persistent  poetess,  “that  you  always 
insist  that  we  write  on  one  side  of  the  paper  only?  Why  not 
on  both?” 

In  that  moment  the  editor  experienced  an  access  of  cour- 
age— courage  to  protest  against  the  accumulated  wrongs  of  his 
kind. 

“One  side  of  the  paper,  madame,”  he  made  answer,  “is  in 
the  nature  of  a compromise.” 

“A  compromise?” 

“A  compromise.  What  we  really  desire,  if  we  could  have 
our  way,  is  not  one,  or  both,  but  neither.” 

Sir  Lewis  Morris  was  complaining  to  Oscar  Wilde  about 
the  neglect  of  his  poems  by  the  press.  “It  is  a complete  con- 
spiracy of  silence  against  me,  a conspiracy  of  silence.  What 
ought  I to  do,  Oscar?”  “Join  it,”  replied  Wilde. 

God’s  prophets  of  the  Beautiful, 

These  Poets  were. 


— E.  B.  Browning. 


334 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


We  call  those  poets  who  are  first  to  mark 
Through  earth’s  dull  mist  the  coming  of  the  dawn, — 

Who  see  in  twilight’s  gloom  the  first  pale  spark, 

While  others  only  note  that  day  is  gone. 

— O.  W.  Holmes. 


POLICE 

A man  who  was  “wanted”  in  Russia  had  been  photographed 
in  six  different  positions,  and  the  pictures  duly  circulated  among 
the  police  department.  A few  days  later  the  chief  of  police 
wrote  to  headquarters : “Sir,  I have  duly  received  the  portraits 
of  the  six  miscreants.  I have  arrested  five  of  them,  and  the 
sixth  will  be  secured  shortly.” 

“I  had  a message  from  the  Black  Hand,”  said  the  resident 
of  Graftburg.  “They  told  me  to  leave  $2,000  in  a vacant  house 
in  a certain  street.” 

“Did  you  tell  the  police?” 

“Right  away.” 

“What  did  they  do?” 

“They  said  that  while  I was  about  it  I might  leave  them  a 
couple  of  thousand  in  the  same  place.” 


Recipe  for  a policeman : 

To  a quart  of  boiling  temper  add  a pint  of  Irish  stew 
Together  with  cracked  nuts,  long  beats  and  slugs ; 

Serve  hot  with  mangled  citizens  who  ask  the  time  of  day — 
The  receipt  is  much  the  same  for  making  thugs. 

— Life 


See  also  Servants. 

POLITENESS 

See  Courtesy;  Etiquet. 


POLITICAL  PARTIES 

Zoo  Superintendent — “What  was  all  the  rumpus  out  there 
this  morning?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


335 


Attendant — ‘‘The  bull  moose  and  the  elephant  were  fight- 
ing over  their  feed.” 

“What  happened?” 

“The  donkey  ate  it.” — Life. 

POLITICIANS 

Politicians  always  belong  to  the  opposite  party. 

The  man  who  goes  into  politics  as  a business  has  no  busi- 
ness to  go  into  politics. — Life. 

A political  orator,  evidently  better  acquainted  with  western 
geography  than  with  the  language  of  the  Greeks,  recently  ex- 
claimed with  fervor  that  his  principles  should  prevail  “from 
Alpha  to  Omaha.” 

Politician — “Congratulate  me,  my  dear,  Pve  won  the  nom- 
ination.” 

His  Wife  (in  surprise) — “Honestly?” 

Politician — “Now  what  in  thunder  did  you  want  to  bring  up 
that  point  for?” 

“What  makes  you  think  the  baby  is  going  to  be  a great  poli- 
tician?” asked  the  young  mother,  anxiously. 

“I’ll  tell  you,”  answered  the  young  father,  confidently;  “he 
can  say  more  things  that  sound  well  and  mean  nothing  at  all 
than  any  kid  I ever  saw.” 

“The  mere  proposal  to  set  the  politician  to  watch  the  cap- 
italist has  been  disturbed  by  the  rather  disconcerting  discovery 
that  they  are  both  the  same  man.  We  are  past  the  point  where 
being  a capitalist  is  the  only  way  of  becoming  a politician,  and 
we  are  dangerously  near  the  point  where  being  a politician  is 
much  the  quickest  way  of  becoming  a capitalist.” — G.  K.  Ches- 
terton. 

At  a political  meeting  the  speakers  and  the  audience  were 
much  annoyed  and  disturbed  by  a man  who  constantly  called 
out:  “Mn  Henry!  Henry,  Henry,  Henry!  I call  for  Mr. 


336 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Henry !”  After  several  interruptions  of  this  kind  during  each 
speech,  a young  man  ascended  the  platform,  and  began  an 
eloquent  and  impassioned  speech  in  which  he  handled  the  is- 
sues of  the  day  with  easy  familiarity.  He  was  in  the  midst 
of  a glowing  period  when  suddenly  the  old  cry  echoed  through 
the  hall:  “Mr.  Henry!  Henry,  Henry,  Henry!  I call  for  Mr. 
Henry !”  With  a word  to  the  speaker,  the  chairman  stepped 
to  the  front  of  the  platform  and  remarked  that  it  would  oblige 
the  audience  very  much  if  the  gentleman  in  the  rear  of  the 
hall  would  refrain  from  any  further  calls  for  Mr.  Henry,  as 
that  gentleman  was  then  addressing  the  meeting. 

“Mr.  Henry?  Is  that  Mr.  Henry ?”  came  in  astonished  tones 
from  the  rear.  “Thunder ! that  can’t  be  him.  Why,  that’s 
the  young  man  that  asked  me  to  call  for  Mr.  Henry.” 

A political  speaker,  while  making  a speech,  paused  in  the 
midst  of  it  and  exclaimed:  “Now  gentlemen,  what  do  you 
think?” 

A man  rose  in  the  assembly,  and  with  one  eye  partially 
closed,  replied  modestly,  with  a strong  Scotch  brogue:  “I  think, 
sir,  I do,  indeed,  sir — I think  if  you  and  I were  to  stump  the 
country  together  we  could  tell  more  lies  than  any  other  two 
men  in  the  country,  sir,  and  I’d  not  say  a word  myself  during 
the  whole  time,  sir.” 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Biddell  tells  a lively  story  about  a Presbyte- 
rian minister  who  had  a young  son,  a lad  about  ten  years  of 
age.  He  was  endeavoring  to  bring  him  up  in  the  way  he  should 
go,  and  was  one  day  asked  by  a friend  what  he  intended  to 
make  of  him.  In  reply  he  said : 

“I  am  watching  the  indications.  I have  a plan  which  I pro- 
pose trying  with  the  boy.  It  is  this : I am  going  to  place  in 
my  parlor  a Bible,  an  apple  and  a silver  dollar.  Then  I am 
going  to  leave  the  room  and  call  in  the  boy.  I am  going  to 
watch  him  from  some  convenient  place  without  letting  him 
know  that  he  is  seen.  Then,  if  he  chooses  the  Bible,  I shall 
make  a preacher  of  him ; if  he  takes  the  apple,  a farmer  he 
shall  be;  but  if  he  chooses  the  dollar,  I will  make  him  a business 
man.” 

The  plan  was  carried  out.  The  arrangements  were  made 
and  the  boy  called  in  from  his  play.  After  a little  while  the 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


337 


preacher  and  his  wife  softly  entered  the  room.  There  was 
the  youngster.  He  was  seated  on  the  Bible,  in  one  hand  was 
the  apple,  from  which  he  was  just  taking  a bite,  and  in  the 
other  he  clasped  the  silver  dollar.  The  good  man  turned  to 
his  consort.  “Wife,”  he  said,  “the  boy  is  a hog.  I shall  make  a 
politician  of  him.” 

Senator  Mark  Hanna  was  walking  through  his  mill  one  day 
when  he  heard  a boy  say: 

“I  wish  I had  Hanna’s  money  and  he  was  in  the  poorhouse.” 

When  he  returned  to  the  office  the  senator  sent  for  the  lad, 
who  was  plainly  mystified  by  the  summons. 

“So  you  wish  you  had  my  money  and  I was  in  the  poor- 
house,”  said  the  great  man  grimly.  “Now  supposing  you  had 
your  wish,  what  would  you  do?” 

“Well,”  said  the  boy  quickly,  his  droll  grin  showing  his 
appreciation  of  the  situation,  “I  guess  I’d  get  you  out  of  the 
poorhouse  the  first  thing.” 

Mr.  Hanna  roared  with  laughter  and  dismissed  the  youth. 

“You  might  as  well  push  that  boy  along,”  he  said  to  one 
of  his  assistants;  “he’s  too  good  a politician  to  be  kept  down.” 

See  also  Candidates;  Public  Speakers. 

POLITICS 

Politics  consists  of  two  sides  and  a fence. 

If  I were  asked  to  define  politics  in  relation  to  the  British 
public,  I should  define  it  as  a spasm  of  pain  recurring  once  in 
every  four  or  five  years.  — A.  E.  W.  Mason . 

Little  Clarence  (who  has  an  inquiring  mind) — “Papa,  the 
Forty  Thieves ” 

Mr.  Callipers — “Now,  my  son,  you  are  too  young  to  talk 
politics.” — Puck. 

“Many  a man,”  remarked  the  milk  toast  philosopher,  “has 
gone  into  politics  with  a fine  future,  and  come  out  with  a ter- 
rible past.” 


338 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Lord  Dufferin  delivered  an  address  before  the  Greek  class 
of  the  McGill  University  about  which  a reporter  wrote: 

“His  lordship  spoke  to  the  class  in  the  purest  ancient  Greek, 
without  mispronouncing  a word  or  making  the  slightest  gram- 
matical solecism.” 

“Good  heavens!”  remarked  Sir  Hector  Langevin  to  the 
late  Sir  John  A.  Macdonald,  “how  did  the  reporter  know  that!” 

“I  told  him,”  was  the  Conservative  statesman’s  answer. 

“But  you  don’t  know  Greek.” 

“True;  but  I know  a little  about  politics.” 

Little  Millie’s  father  and  grandfather  were  Republicans;  and, 
as  election  drew  near,  they  spoke  of  their  opponents  with  in- 
creasing warmth,  never  heeding  Millie’s  attentive  ears  and 
wondering  eyes. 

One  night,  however,  as  the  little  maid  was  preparing  for  bed, 
she  whispered  in  a frightened  voice:  “Oh,  mamma,  I don’t 

dare  to  go  upstairs.  I’m  afraid  there’s  a Democrat  under  the 
bed.” 


“The  shortest  after-dinner  speech  I ever  heard,”  said  Cy 
VVarman,  the  poet,  “was  at  a dinner  in  Providence.” 

“A  man  was  assigned  to  the  topic,  ‘The  Christian  in  Poli- 
tics.’ When  he  was  called  upon  he  arose,  bowed  and  said:  ‘Mr. 
Chairman,  ladies  and  gentlemen:  The  Christian  in  Politics — 
he  ain’t.’”  j;:  ; , 

Politics  is  but  the  common  pulse-beat  of  which  revolution 
is  the  fever  spasm. — Wendell  Phillips. 

POVERTY 

Poverty  is  no  disgrace,  but  that’s  about  all  that  can  be  said 
in  its  favor. 

A traveler  passing  through  the  Broad  Top  Mountain  dis- 
• trict  in  northern  Bedford  County,  Pennsylvania,  last  summer, 
came  across  a lad  of  sixteen  cultivating  a patch  of  miserable 
potatoes.  He  remarked  upon  their  unpromising  appearance 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


339 


and  expressed  pity  for  anyone  who  had  to  dig  a living  out  of 
such  soil. 

“I  don’t  need  no  pity,”  said  the  boy  resentfully. 

The  traveler  hastened  to  soothe  his  wounded  pride.  But 
in  the  offended  tone  of  one  who  has  been  misjudged  the  boy 
added;  “I  ain’t  as  poor  as  you  think.  I’m  only  workin’  here. 
I don’t  own  this  place.” 

One  day  an  inspector  of  a New  York  tenement-house  found 
four  families  living  in  one  room,  chalk  lines  being  drawn 
across  in  such  manner  as  to  mark  out  a quarter  for  each 
family. 

“How  do  you  get  along  here?”  inquired  the  inspector. 

“Very  well,”  was  the  reply.  “Only  the  man  in  the  farthest 
corner  keeps  boarders.” 

There  is  no  man  so  poor  but  that  he  can  afford  to  keep  one 
dog,  and  I hev  seen  them  so  poor  that  they  could  afford  to  keep 
three. — Josh  Billings. 

May  poverty  be  always  a day’s  march  behind  us. 

Not  he  who  has  little,  but  he  who  wishes  for  more,  is  poor. 

— Seneca. 


PRAISE 

Wife  (complainingly) — “You  never  praise  me  up  to  any 
one.” 

Hub — “I  don’t,  eh ! You  should  hear  me  describe  you  at  the 
intelligence  office  when  I’m  trying  to  hire  a cook.” 

“What  sort  of  a man  is  he?” 

“Well,  he’s  just  what  I’ve  been  looking  for — a generous 
soul,  with  a limousine  body.” — Life. 

PRAYER  MEETINGS 

A foreigner  who  attended  a prayer  meeting  in  Indiana  was 
asked  what  the  assistants  did.  “Not  very  much,”  he  said,  “only 
they  sin  and  bray.” 


340 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PRAYERS 

During  the  winter  the  village  preacher  was  taken  sick,  and 
several  of  his  children  were  also  afflicted  with  the  mumps.  One 
day  a number  of  the  devout  church  members  called  to  pray 
for  the  family.  While  they  were  about  it  a boy,  the  son  of  a 
member  living  in  the  country,  knocked  at  the  preacher’s  door. 
He  had  his  arms  full  of  things.  “What  have  you  there?”  a 
deacon  asked  him. 

“Pa’s  prayers  for  a happy  Thanksgiving,”  the  boy  answered, 
as  he  proceeded  to  unload  potatoes,  bacon,  flour  and  other  pro- 
visions for  the  afflicted  family. 

A little  girl  in  Washington  surprised  her  mother  the  other 
day  by  closing  her  evening  prayers  in  these  words : “Amen ; 
good  bye;  ring  off.” 

Teacher — “Now,  Tommy,  suppose  a man  gave  you  $100  to 
keep  for  him  and  then  died,  what  would  you  do?  Would  you 
pray  for  him?” 

Tommy — “No,  sir;  but  I would  pray  for  another  like  him.” 

A well-known  revivalist  whose  work  has  been  principally 
among  the  negroes  of  a certain  section  of  the  South  remem- 
bers one  service  conducted  by  him  that  was  not  entirely  suc- 
cessful. He  had  had  very  poor  attendance,  and  spent  much 
time  in  questioning  the  darkies  as  to  their  reason  for  not 
attending. 

“Why  were  you  not  at  our  revival?”  he  asked  one  old  man, 
whom  he  encountered  on  the  road. 

“Oh,  I dunno,”  said  the  backward  one. 

“Don’t  you  ever  pray?”  demanded  the  preacher. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  “No,”  said  he;  “I  carries  a 
rabbit’s  foot.” — Taylor  Edwards. 

A little  girl  attending  an  Episcopal  church  for  the  first 
time,  was  amazed  to  see  all  kneel  suddenly.  She  asked  her 
mother  what  they  were  going  to  do.  Her  mother  replied, 
“Hush,  they’re  going  to  say  their  prayers.” 

“What  with  all  their  clothes  on?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


34i 


The  new  minister  in  a Georgia  church  was  delivering  his 
first  sermon.  The  darky  janitor  was  a critical  listener  from 
a back  corner  of  the  church.  The  minister’s  sermon  was 
eloquent, ' and  his  prayers  seemed  to  cover  the  whole  category 
of  hmTan  wants. 

After  the  services  one  of  the  deacons  asked  the  old  darky 
what  he  thought  of  the  new  minister.  “Don’t  you  think  he 
offers  up  a good  prayer,  Joe?” 

“Ah  mos’  suhtainly  does,  boss.  Why,  dat  man  axed  de  good 
Lord  fo’  things  dat  de  odder  preacher  didn’t  even  know  He 
had !” 

Hilma  was  always  glad  to  say  her  prayers,  but  she  wanted 
to  be  sure  that  she  v/as  heard  in  the  heavens  above  as  well  as 
on  the  earth  beneath. 

One  night,  after  the  usual  “Amen,”  she  dropped  her  head 
upon  her  pillow  and  closed  her  eyes.  After  a moment  she 
lifted  her  hand  and,  waving  it  aloft,  said,  “Oh,  Lord!  this 
prayer  comes  from  203  Selden  Avenue.” 

Willie’s  mother  had  told  him  that  if  he  went  to  the  river 
to  play  he  should  go  to  bed.  One  day  she  was  away,  and  on 

coming  home  about  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  found  Willie 

in  bed. 

“What  are  you  in  bed  for?”  asked  his  mother. 

“I  went  to  the  river  to  play,  and  I knew  you  would  put  me 
in  bed,  so  I didn’t  wait  for  you  to  come.” 

“Did  you  say  your  prayers  before  you  went  to  bed?”  asked 
his  mother. 

“No,”  said  Willie.  “You  don’t  suppose  God  would  be  loaf- 
ing around  here  this  time  of  day,  do  you?  He’s  at  the  of- 
fice.” 

Little  Polly,  coming  in  from  her  walk  one  morning,  in- 
formed her  mother  that  she  had  seen  a lion  in  the  park.  No 

amount  of  persuasion  or  reasoning  could  make  her  vary  her 
statement  one  hairbreadth.  That  night,  when  she  slipped  down 
on  her  knees  to  say  her  prayers,  her  mother  said,  “Polly,  ask 
God  to  forgive  you  for  that  fib.” 

Polly  hid  her  face  for  a moment.  Then  she  looked  straight 


342 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


into  her  mother’s  eyes,  her  own  eyes  shining  like  stars,  and 
said,  “I  did  ask  him,  mamma,  dearest,  and  he  said,  ‘Don’t  men- 
tion it,  Miss  Polly;  that  big  yellow  dog  has  often  fooled  me.’” 

Prayer  is  the  spirit  speaking  truth  to  Truth. — Bailey. 

Pray  to  be  perfect,  though  material  leaven 
Forbid  the  spirit  so  on  earth  to  be; 

But  if  for  any  wish  thou  darest  not  pray, 

Then  pray  to  God  to  cast  that  wish  away. 

— Hartley  Coleridge. 

See  also  Courage. 


PREACHING 

The  services  in  the  chapel  of  a certain  western  university 
are  from  time  to  time  conducted  by  eminent  clergymen  of 
many  denominations  and  from  many  cities. 

On  one  occasion,  when  one  of  these  visiting  divines  asked 
the  president  how  long  he  should  speak,  that  witty  officer  re* 
plied : 

“There  is  no  limit,  Doctor,  upon  the  time  you  may  preach; 
but  I may  tell  you  that  there  is  a tradition  here  that  the  most 
souls  are  saved  during  the  first  twenty-five  minutes.” 


One  Sunday  morning  a certain  young  pastor  in  his  first 
charge  announced  nervously: 

“I  will  take  for  my  text  the  words,  ‘And  they  fed  five  men 
with  five  thousand  loaves  of  bread  and  two  thousand  fishes.’  ” 
At  this  misquotation  an  old  parishioner  from  his  seat  in 
the  amen  corner  said  audibly: 

“That’s  no  miracle — I could  do  it  myself.” 

The  young  preacher  said  nothing  at  the  time,  but  the  next 
Sunday  he  announced  the  same  text  again.  This  time  he  got 
it  right: 

“And  they  fed  five  thousand  men  on  five  loaves  of  bread 
and  two  fishes,” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


343 


He  waited  a moment,  and  then,  leaning  over  the  pulpit  and 
looking  at  the  amen  corner,  he  said : 

“And  could  you  do  that,  too,  Mr.  Smith  ?” 

“Of  course  I could,”  Mr.  Smith  replied. 

“And  how  would  you  do  it?”  said  the  preacher. 

“With  what  was  left  over  from  last  Sunday,”  said  Mr.  Smith. 


The  late  Bishop  Foss  once  visited  a Philadelphia  physician 
for  some  trifling  ailment.  “Do  you,  sir,”  the  doctor  asked,  in 
the  course  of  his  examination,  “talk  in  your  sleep?” 

“No  sir,”  answered  the  bishop.  “I  talk  in  other  people’s. 
Aren’t  you  aware  that  I am  a divine?” 

“Yes,  sir,”  said  the  irate  man,  “I  got  even  with  that  clergy- 
man. I slurred  him.  Why,  I hired  one  hundred  people  to  at- 
tend his  church  and  go  to  sleep  before  he  had  preached  five 
minutes.” 

A noted  eastern  Judge  when  visiting  in  the  west  went  to 
church  on  Sunday;  which  isn’t  so  remarkable  as  the  fact  that 
he  knew  beforehand  that  the  preacher  was  exceedingly  tedious 
and  long  winded  to  the  last  degree.  After  the  service  the 
preacher  met  the  Judge  in  the  vestibule  and  said : 

“Well,  your  Honor,  how  did  you.  like  the  sermon?” 

“Oh,  most  wonderfully,”  replied  the  Judge.  “It  was  like  the 
peace  of  God;  for  it  passed  all  understanding,  and,  like  His 
mercy,  I thought  it  would  have  endured  forever.” 

The  preacher’s  evening  discourse  was  dry  and  long,  and  the 
congregation  gradually  melted  away.  The  sexton  tiptoed  up  to 
the  pulpit  and  slipped  a note  under  one  corner  of  the  Bible.  It 
read : 

“When  you  are  through,  will  you  please  turn  off  the  lights, 
lock  the  door,  and  put  the  key  under  the  mat?” 

The  new  minister’s  first  sermon  was  very  touching  and  cre- 
ated much  favorable  comment  among  the  members  of  the 


344 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


church.  One  morning,  a few  days  later,  his  nine-year-old  son 
happened  to  be  alone  in  the  pastor’s  study  and  with  childish  cu- 
riosity started  to  read  through  some  papers  on  the  desk.  They 
happened  to  be  this  identical  sermon,  but  he  was  most  inter- 
ested in  the  marginal  notes.  In  one  place  in  the  margin  were 
written  the  words,  “Cry  a little.”  Further  on  in  the  discourse 
appeared  another  marginal  remark,  “Cry  a little  more.”  On  the 
next  to  the  last  sheet  the  boy  found  his  good  father  had  penned 
another  remark,  “Cry  like  thunder.” 

A young  preacher,  who  was  staying  at  a clergy-house,  was 
in  the  habit  of  retiring  to  his  room  for  an  hour  or  more  each 
day  to  practice  pulpit  oratory.  At  such  times  he  filled  the  house 
with  sounds  of  fervor  and  pathos,  and  emptied  it  of  almost 
everything  else.  Phillips  Brooks  chanced  to  be  visiting  a friend 
in  this  house  one  day  when  the  budding  orator  was  holding 
forth. 

“Gracious  me !”  exclaimed  the  Bishop,  starting  up  in  assumed 
terror,  “pray,  what  might  that  be?” 

“Sit  down,  Bishop,”  his  friend  replied.  “That’s  only  young 
D practising  what  he  preaches.” 

A distinguished  theologian  was  invited  to  make  an  address 
before  a Sunday-school.  The  divine  spoke  for  over  an  hour 
and  his  remarks  were  of  too  deep  a character  for  the  average 
juvenile  mind  to  comprehend.  At  the  conclusion,  the  superin- 
tendent, according  to  custom,  requested  some  one  in  the  school 
to  name  an  appropriate  hymn  to  be  sung. 

“Sing  ‘Revive  Us  Again,’  ” shouted  a boy  in  the  rear  of  the 
room., 

A clergyman  was  once  sent  for  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
by  one  of  his  woman  parishioners. 

“Well,  my  good  woman,”  said  he,  “so  you  are  ill  and  require 
the  consolations  of  religion?  What  can  I do  for  you?” 

“No,”  replied  the  old  lady,  “I  am  only  nervous  and  can’t 
sleep !” 

“But  how  can  I help  that?”  said  the  parson. 

“Oh,  sir,  you  always  put  me  to  sleep  so  nicely  when  I go 
to  church  that  I thought  if  you  would  only  preach  a little  for 
me!” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


345 


I never  see  my  rector’s  eyes; 

He  hides  their  light  divine; 

For  when  he  prays,  he  shuts  his  own, 

And  when  he  preaches,  mine. 

A stranger  entered  the  church  in  the  middle  of  the  sermon 
and  seated  himself  in  the  back  pew.  After  a while  he  began  to 
fidget.  Leaning  over  to  the  white-haired  man  at  his  side,  evi- 
dently an  old  member  of  the  congregation,  he  whispered : 

“How  long  has  he  been  preaching?” 

“Thirty  or  forty  years,  I think,”  the  old  man  answered. 

“I’ll  stay  then,”  decided  the  stranger.  “He  must  be  nearly 
done.” 

Once  upon  a time  there  was  an  Indian  named  Big  Smoke, 
employed  as  a missionary  to  his  fellow  Smokes. 

A white  man  encountering  Big  Smoke,  asked  him  what  he 
did  for  a living. 

“Umph !”  said  Big  Smoke,  “me  preach.” 

“That  so?  What  do  you  get  for  preaching?” 

“Me  get  ten  dollars  a year.” 

“Well,”  said  the  white  man,  “that’s  damn  poor  pay.” 

“Umph!”  said  Big  Smoke,  “me  damn  poor  preacher.” 

See  also  Clergy. 

PRESCRIPTIONS 

After  a month’s  work  in  intensely  warm  weather  a gar- 
dener in  the  suburbs  became  ill,  and  the  anxious  little  wife  sent 
for  a doctor,  who  wrote  a prescription  after  examining  the  pa- 
tient. The  doctor,  upon  departing,  said : “Just  let  your  husband 
take  that  and  you’ll  find  he  will  be  all  right  in  a short  time.” 

Next  day  the  doctor  called  again,  and  the  wife  opened  the 
door,  her  face  beaming  with  smiles.  “Sure,  that  was  a wonder- 
ful wee  bit  of  paper  you  left  yesterday,”  she  exclaimed.  “Wil- 
liam is  better  to-day.” 

“I’m  glad  to  hear  that,”  said  the  much-pleased  medical  man. 

“Not  but  what  I hadn’t  a big  job  to  get  him  to  swallow  it,” 


346 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


she  continued,  “but,  sure,  I just  wrapped  up  the  wee  bit  of  pa- 
paper  quite  small  and  put  it  in  a spoonful  of  jam  and  William 
swallowed  it  unbeknownst.  By  night  he  was  entirely  better.” 

PRESENCE  OF  MIND 

“What  did  you  do  when  you  met  the  train-robber  face  to 
face?” 

“I  explained  that  I had  been  interviewed  by  the  ticket-seller, 
the  luggage-carriers,  the  dining-car  waiters,  and  the  sleeping-car 
porters  and  borrowed  a dollar  from  him.” 

PRINTERS 

The  master  of  all  trades : He  beats  the  farmer  with  his  fast 
“hoe,”  the  carpenter  with  his  “rule,”  and  the  mason  in  “set- 
ting up  tall  columns” ; and  he  surpasses  the  lawyer  and  the  doc- 
tor in  attending  to  the  “cases,”  and  beats  the  parson  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  devil. 


PRISONS 

A man  arrested  for  stealing  chickens  was  brought  to  trial. 
The  case  was  given  to  the  jury,  who  brought  him  in  guilty,  and 
the  judge  sentenced  him  to  three  months*  imprisonment.  The 
jailer  was  a jovial  man,  fond  of  a smile,  and  feeling  particu- 
larly good  on  that  particular  day,  considered  himself  insulted 
when  the  prisoner  looking  around  the  cell  told  him  it  was  dirty, 
and  not  fit  for  a hog  to  be  put  in.  One  word  brought  on  an- 
other, till  finally  the  jailer  told  the  prisoner  if  he  did  not  be- 
have himself  he  would  put  him  out.  To  which  the  prisoner 
replied : “I  will  give  you  to  understand,  sir,  I have  as  good  a 
right  here  as  you  have!” 

Sheriff — “That  fellow  who  just  left  jail  is  going  to  be  ar- 
rested again  soon.” 

“How  do  you  know?” 

Sheriff — “He  chopped  my  wood,  carried  the  water,  and 
mended  my  socks.  I can’t  get  along  without  him.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


347 


PRODIGALS 

“Why  did  the  father  of  the  prodigal  son  fall  on  his  neck 
and  weep?” 

“Cos  he  had  ter  kill  the  fatted  calf,  an’  de  son  wasn’t  wort’ 
it.” 


PROFANITY 

The  Rector — “It’s  terrible  for  a man  like  you  to  make  every 
other  word  an  oath.” 

The  Man — “Oh,  well,  I swear  a good  deal  and  you  pray  a 
good  deal,  but  we  don’t  neither  of  us  mean  nuthin’  by  it.” 

First  D$af  Mute — “He  wasn’t  so  very  angry,  was  he?” 

Second  Deaf  Mute — “He  was  so  wild  that  the  words  he  used 
almost  blistered  his  fingers.” 

The  little  daughter  of  a clergyman  stubbed  her  toe  and  said, 
“Darn !” 

“I’ll  give  you  ten  cents,”  said  father,  “if  you’ll  never  say 
that  word  again.” 

A few  days  afterward  she  came  to  him  and  said : “Papa, 
I’ve  got  a word  worth  half  a dollar.” 

Very  frequently  the  winter  highways  of  the  Yukon  valley  are 
mere  trails,  traversed  only  by  dog-sledges.  One  of  the  bishops 
in  Alaska,  who  was  very  fond  of  that  mode  of  travel,  en- 
countered a miner  coming  out  with  his  dog-team,  and  stopped 
to  ask  him  what  kind  of  a road  he  had  come  over. 

The  miner  responded  with  a stream  of  forcible  and  pictur- 
esque profanity,  winding  up  with : 

“And  what  kind  o’  trail  did  you  have?” 

“Same  as  yours,”  replied  the  bishop  feelingly. — Elgin  Bur- 
roughs. 


A scrupulous  priest  of  Kildare, 

Used  to  pay  a rude  peasant  to  swear, 
Who  would  paint  the  air  blue, 

For  an  hour  or  two, 

While  his  reverence  wrestled  in  prayer. 


348 


TO  ASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Donald  and  Jeanie  were  putting  down  a carpet.  Donald 
slammed  the  end  of  his  thumb  with  the  hammer  and  began 
to  pour  forth  his  soul  in  language  befitting  the  occasion. 

“Donald,  Donald!”  shrieked  Jeanie,  horrified.  “Dinna  swear 
that  way!” 

“Wummun!”  vociferated  Donald;  “gin  ye  know  ony  better 
way,  now  is  the  time  to  let  me  know  it!” 

“It  is  not  always  necessary  to  make  a direct  accusation, 
said  the  lawyer  who  was  asking  damages  because  insinuations 
had  been  made  against  his  client’s  good  name.  “You  may  havc- 
heard  of  the  woman  who  called  to  the  hired  girl,  ‘Mary,  Mary, 
come  here  and  take  the  parrot  downstairs — the  master  has 
dropped  his  collar  button  !’  ” 

Little  Bartholomew’s  mother  overheard  him  swearing  like  a 
mule-driver.  He  displayed  a fluency  that  overwhelmed  her. 
She  took  him  to  task,  explaining  the  wickedness  of  profanity 
as  well  as  its  vulgarity.  She  asked  where  he  had  learned  all 
those  dreadful  words.  Bartholomew  announced  that  Cavert, 
one  of  his  playmates,  had  taught  him. 

Cavert’s  mother  was  straightway  informed  and  Cavert  was 
brought  to  book.  He  vigorously  denied  having  instructed  Bar 
tholomew,  and  neither  threats  nor  tears  could  make  him  con- 
fess. At  last  he  burst  out: 

“I  didn’t  tell  Bartholomew  any  cuss  words.  Why  should  I 
know  how  to  cuss  any  better  than  he  does?  Hasn’t  his  father 
got  an  automobile,  too?” 

They  were  in  Italy  together. 

“If  you  would  let  me  curse  them  black  and  blue,”  said  the 
groom,  “we  shouldn’t  have  to  wait  so  long  for  the  trunks.” 

“But,  darling,  please  don’t.  It  would  distress  me  so,”  mur 
mured  the  bride. 

The  groom  went  off,  but  quickly  returned  with  the  porters 
before  him  trundling  the  trunks  at  a double  quick. 

“Oh,  dearest,  how  did  you  do  it?  You  didn’t ?” 

“Not  at  all.  I thought  of  something  that  did  quite  as  well. 
I said,  ‘S-s-s-susquehanna,  R-r-r-rappahannock!’”— Cornelia  C. 
Ward. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


349 


A school  girl  was  required  to  write  an  essay  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  words  about  a motorcar.  She  submitted  the  following: 

“My  uncle  bought  a motorcar.  He  was  riding  in  the  coun- 
try when  it  busted  up  a hill.  I guess  this  is  about  fifty  words. 
The  other  two  hundred  are  what  my  uncle  said  when  he  was 
walking  back  to  town,  but  they  are  not  fit  for  publication.” 

The  ashman  was  raising  a can  of  ashes  above  his  head  to 
dump  the  contents  into  his  cart,  when  the  bottom  of  the  can 
came  out.  Ethel  saw  it  and  ran  in  and  told  her  mother. 

“I  hope  you  didn’t  listen  to  what  he  said,”  the  mother  re- 
marked. 

“He  didn’t  say  a word  to  me,”  replied  the  little  girl;  “he 
just  walked  right  off  by  the  side  of  his  cart,  talking  to  God.” 

A young  man  entered  the  jeweler’s  store  and  bought  a ring, 
which  he  ordered  engraved.  The  jeweler  asked  what  name. 

“George  Osborne  to  Harriet  Lewis,  but  I prefer  only  the 
initials,  G.  O.  to  H.  L.” 

For  it  comes  to  pass  oft  that  a terrible  oath,  with  a swag- 
gering accent  sharply  twanged  off,  gives  manhood  more  appro- 
bation than  ever  proof  itself  would  have  earned  him. — Shake- 
speare. 


PROHIBITION 

“Talking  about  dry  towns,  have  you  ever  been  in  Leaven- 
worth, Kansas?”  asked  the  commercial  traveler  in  the  smoking- 
car.  “No?  Well,  that’s  a dry  town  for  you,  all  right.” 

“They  can’t  sell  liquor  at  all  there?”  asked  one  of  the  men. 

“Only  if  you  had  been  bitten  by  a snake,”  said  the  drum- 
mer. “They  have  only  one  snake  in  town,  and  when  I got  to 
it  the  other  day  after  standing  in  line  for  nearly  half  a day  it 
was  too  tired  to  bite.” 

It  was  prohibition  country.  As  soon  as  the  train  pulled  up, 
a seedy  little  man  with  a covered  basket  on  his  arm  hurried 


350 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


to  the  open  windows  of  the  smoker  and  exhibited  a quart  bot- 
tle filled  with  rich,  dark  fluid. 

“Want  to  buy  some  nice  cold  tea?”  he  asked,  with  just  the 
suspicion  of  a wink. 

Two  thirsty-looking  cattlemen  brightened  visibly,  and  each 
paid  a dollar  for  a bottle. 

“Wait  until  you  get  outer  the  station  before  you  take  a 
drink,”  the  little  man  cautioned  them.  “I  don’t  wanter  get  in 
trouble.” 

He  found  three  other  customers  before  the  train  pulled  out, 
in  each  case  repeating  his  warning. 

“You  seem  to  be  doing  a pretty  good  business,”  remarked 
a man  who  had  watched  it  all.  “But  I don’t  see  why  you’d 
run  any  more  risk  of  getting  in  trouble  if  they  took  a drink 
before  the  train  started.” 

“Ye  don’t,  hey?  Well,  what  them  bottles  had  in  ’em,  pard- 
ner,  was  real  cold  tea.” 

PROMOTING 

Mr.  Harcourt,  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies,  at 
the  British  North  Borneo  dinner,  said  that  a City  friend  of 
his  was  approached  with  a view  to  floating  a rubber  .company. 
His  friend  was  quite  ready.  “How  many  trees  have  you?”  he 
asked.  “We  have  not  got  any  trees,”  was  the  answer.  “How 
much  land  have  you?”  “We  have  no  land.”  “What  then  have 
you  got?”  “I  have  a bag  of  seeds!” 

There  are  many  tales  about  the  caution  of  Russell  Sage  and 
the  cleverness  with  which  he  outwitted  those  who  sought  to 
get  some  of  his  money  from  him.  Two  brilliant  promoters  went 
to  him  one  time  and  presented  a scheme.  The  financier  lis- 
tened for  an  hour,  and  when  they  departed  they  were  told  that 
Mr.  Sage’s  decision  would  be  mailed  to  them  in  a few  days. 

“I  think  we  have  got  Uncle  Russell,”  said  one  of  the  pro- 
moters. “I  really  believe  we  have  won  his  confidence.” 

“I  fear  not,”  observed  the  other  doubtfully.  “He  is  too  sus- 
picious.” 

“Suspicious?  I didn’t  observe  any  sign  of  it.” 

“Didn’t  you  notice  that  he  counted  his  fingers  after  I had 
shaken  hands  with  him  and  we  were  coming  away?” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


35i 


PROMOTION 

Promotion  cometh  neither  from  the  east  nor  the  west,  but 
from  the  cemetery. — Edward  Sanford  Martin. 

PROMPTNESS 

“Are  you  first  in  anything  at  school,  Earlie?” 

“First  out  of  the  building  when  the  bell  rings.,, 

The  head  of  a large  business  house  bought  a number  of 
those  “Do  it  now”  signs  and  hung  them  up  around  his  offices. 
When,  after  the  first  few  days  of  those  signs,  the  business  man 
counted  up  the  results,  he  found  that  the  cashier  had  skipped 
out  with  $20,000,  the  head  bookkeeper  had  eloped  with  the  sten- 
ographer, three  clerks  had  asked  for  a raise  in  salary,  and  the 
office  boy  had  lit  out  for  the  west  to  become  a highwayman. 

“Are  you  waiting  for  me,  dear?”  she  said,  coming  down- 
stairs at  last,  after  spending  half  an  hour  fixing  her  hat. 

“Waiting,”  exclaimed  the  impatient  man.  “Oh  no,  not  wait- 
ing— sojourning.” 

PRONUNCIATION 

A tale  is  told  of  a Kansas  minister,  a great  precisionist  in 
the  use  of  words,  whose  exactness  sometimes  destroyed  the 
force  of  what  he  was  saying.  On  one  occasion,  in  the  course 
of  an  eloquent  prayer,  he  pleaded: 

“O  Lord!  waken  thy  cause  in  the  hearts  of  this  congrega- 
tion and  give  them  new  eyes  to  see  and  new  impulse  to  do. 
Send  down  Thy  lev-er  or  lee-ver,  according  to  Webster’s  or 
Worcester’s  dictionary,  whichever  Thou  usest,  and  pry  them 
into  activity.” 

“I’m  at  the  head  of  my  class,  pa,”  said  Willie. 

“Dear  me,  son,  how  did  that  happen?”  cried  his  father. 

“Why,  the  teacher  asked  us  this  morning  how  to  pronounce 
C-h-i-h-u-a-h-u-a,  and  nobody  knew,”  said  Willie,  “but  when 
she  got  down  to  me  I sneezed  and  she  said  that  was  right.” 

See  also  Liars. 


352 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PROPORTION 

A middle-aged  colored  woman  in  a Georgia  village,  hearing 
a commotion  in  a neighbor’s  cabin,  looked  in  at  the  door.  On 
the  floor  lay  a small  boy  writhing  in  great  distress  while  his 
mother  bent  solicitously  over  him. 

“What-all’s  de  matter  wif  de  chile?”  asked  the  visitor  sym- 
pathetically. 

“I  spec’s  hit’s  too  much  watermillion,”  responded  the  mother. 

“Ho ! go  ’long  wif  you,”  protested  the  visitor  scornfully. 
“Dey  cyan’t  never  be  too  much  watermillion.  Hit  mus’  be  dat 
dere  ain’t  enough  boy.” 


PROPOSALS 

A love-smitten  youth  who  was  studying  the  approved  method 
of  proposal  asked  one  of  his  bachelor  friends  if  he  thought 
that  a young  man  should  propose  to  a girl  on  his  knees. 

“If  he  doesn’t,”  replied  his  friend,  “the  girl  should  get  off.” 

A gentleman  who  had  been  in  Chicago  only  three  days,  but 
who  had  been  paying  attention  to  a prominent  Chicago  belle, 
wanted  to  propose,  but  was  afraid  he  would  be  thought  too 
hasty.  He  delicately  broached  the  subject  as  follows:  “If  I 
were  to  speak  to  you  of  marriage,  after  having  only  made  your 
acquaintance  three  days  ago,  what  would  you  say  of  it?” 

“Well,  I should  say,  never  put  off  till  tomorrow  that  which 
should  have  been  done  the  day  before  yesterday.” 

There  was  a young  man  from  the  West, 

Who  proposed  to  the  girl  he  loved  best, 

But  so  closely  he  pressed  her 
To  make  her  say,  yes,  sir, 

That  he  broke  two  cigars  in  his  vest. 

The  Tobacconist. 

They  were  dining  on  fowl  in  a restaurant.  “You  see,”  he 
explained,  as  he  showed  her  the  wishbone,  “you  take  hold  here. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


353 


Then  we  must  both  make  a wish  and  pull,  and  when  it  breaks 
the  one  who  has  the  bigger  part  of  it  will  have  his  or  her 
wish  granted.”  “But  I don’t  know  what  to  wish  for,”  she  pro- 
tested. “Oh!  you  can  think  of  something,”  he  said.  “No,  1 
can’t,”  she  replied;  “I  can’t  think  of  anything  I want  very 
much.”  “Well,  I’ll  wish  for  you,”  he  explained.  “Will  you, 
really?”  she  asked.  “Yes.”  “Well,  then  there’s  no  use  fooling 
with  the  old  wishbone,”  she  interrupted  with  a glad  smile,  “you 
can  have  me.” 

“Dear  May,”  wrote  the  young  man,  “pardon  me,  but  I’m 
getting  so  forgetful.  I proposed  to  you  last  night,  but  really 
forget  whether  you  said  yes  or  no.” 

“Dear  Will,”  she  replied  by  note,  “so  glad  to  hear  from 
you.  I know  I said  ‘no’  to  some  one  last  night,  but  I had 
forgotten  just  who  it  was.” 

The  four  Gerton  girls  were  all  good-looking ; indeed,  the 
three  younger  ones  were  beautiful ; while  Annie,  the  oldest, 
easily  made  up  in  capability  and  horse  sense  what  she  lacked 
in  looks. 

A young  chap,  very  eligible,  called  on  the  girls  frequently, 
but  seemed  unable  to  decide  which  to  marry.  So  Annie  put 
on  her  thinking  cap,  and,  one  evening  when  the  young  chap 
called,  she  appeared  with  her  pretty  arms  bare  to  the  elbow 
and  her  hands  white  with  flour. 

“Oh,  you  must  excuse  my  appearance,”  she  said.  “I  have 
been  working  in  the  kitchen  all  day.  I baked  bread  and  pies 
and  cake  this  morning,  and  afterward,  as  the  cook  was  ill,  I 
prepared  dinner.” 

“Miss  Annie,  is  that  so?”  said  the  young  man.  He  looked 
at  her,  deeply  impressed.  Then,  after  a moment’s  thought, 
he  said : 

“Miss  Annie,  there  is  a question  I wish  to  ask  you,  and  on 
your  answer  will  depend  much  of  my  life’s  happiness.” 

“Yes?”  she  said,  with  a blush,  and  she  drew  a little  nearer. 
“Yes?  What  is  it?” 

“Miss  Annie,”  said  the  young  man,  in  deep  earnest  tones, 
“I  am  thinking  of  proposing  to  your  sister  Kate — will  you 
make  your  home  with  us?” 


354 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


It  was  at  Christmas,  and  he  had  been  calling  on  her  twice 
a week  for  six  months,  but  had  not  proposed. 

“Ethel,”  he  said,  “I — er — am  going  to  ask  you  an  important 
question.” 

“Oh,  George,”  she  exclaimed,  “this  is  so  sudden ! Why, 
I—” 

“No,  excuse  me,”  he  interrupted;  “what  I want  to  ask 
is  this : What  date  have  you  and  your  mother  decided  upon 
for  our  wedding?” 

A Scotch  beadle  led  the  maiden  of  his  choice  to  a church- 
yard and,  pointing  to  the  various  headstones,  said : 

“My  folks  are  all  buried  there,  Jennie.  Wad  ye  like  to  be 
buried  there  too  ?” 

Impecunious  Lover — “Be  mine,  Amanda,  and  you  will  be 
treated  like  an  angel.” 

Wealthy  Maiden — “Yes,  I suppose  so.  Nothing  to  eat, 
and  less  to  wear.  No,  thank  you.” 

The  surest  way  to  hit  a woman’s  heart  is  to  take  aim 
kneeling. — Douglas  Jerrold. 

PROPRIETY 

There  was  a young  lady  of  Wilts, 

Who  walked  up  to  Scotland  on  stilts; 

When  they  said  it  was  shocking 
To  show  so  much  stocking, 

She  answered:  “Then  what  about  kilts?” 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 

PROSPERITY 

May  bad  fortune  follow  you  all  your  days 
And  never  catch  up  with  you. 

PROTESTANT  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH 

One  of  our  popular  New  England  lecturers  tells  this  amus- 
ing story. 

A street  boy  of  diminutive  stature  was  trying  to  sell  some 
very  young  kittens  to  passers-by.  One  day  he  accosted  the 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


355 


late  Reverend  Phillips  Brooks,  asking  him  to  purchase,  and 
recommending  them  as  good  Episcopal  kittens.  Dr.  Brooks 
laughingly  refused,  thinking  them  too  small  to  be  taken  from 
their  mother.  A few  days  later  a Presbyterian  minister  who 
had  witnessed  this  episode  was  asked  by  the  same  boy  to  buy  the 
same  kittens.  This  time  the  lad  announced  that  they  were  faith- 
ful Presbyterians. 

“Didn’t  you  tell  Dr.  Brooks  last  week  that  they  were  Epis- 
copal kittens?”  the  minister  asked  sternly. 

“Yes  sir,”  replied  the  boy  quickly,  “but  they’s  had  their  eyes 
opened  since  then,  sir.” 


An  Episcopal  clergyman  who  was  passing  his  vacation  in 
a remote  country  district  met  an  old  farmer  who  declared  that 
he  was  a “’Piscopal.” 

“To  what  parish  do  you  belong?”  asked  the  clergyman. 

“Don’t  know  nawthin’  ’bout  enny  parish,”  was  the  answer. 

“Who  confirmed  you,  then?”  was  the  next  question. 

“Nobody,”  answered  the  farmer. 

“Then  how  are  you  an  Episcopalian?”  asked  the  clergy- 
man. 

“Well,”  was  the  reply,  “you  see  it’s  this  way:  Last  winter 
I went  to  church,  an’  it  was  called  'Piscopal,  an’  I heerd  them 
I went  to  church,  an’  it  was  called  ’Piscopal,  an’  I heerd  them 
say  that  they  left  undone  the  things  what  they’d  oughter  done 
and  they’d  done  some  things  what  they  oughtenter  done,  and  I 
says  to  myself  says  I : ‘That’s  my  fix  exac’ly,’  and  ever  sence 
then  Pve  been  a ’Piscopalian.” 


PROTESTANTS 

A Protestant  mission  meeting  had  been  held  in  an  Irish 
town  and  this  was  the  gardener’s  contribution  to  the  contro- 
versy that  ensued : “ ‘Pratestants !’  he  said  with  lofty  scorn, 
“Twas  mighty  little  St.  Paul  thought  of  the  Pratestants.  You’ve 
all  heard  tell  of  the  ’pistle  he  wrote  to  the  Romans,  but  I’d 
ax  ye  this,  did  any  of  yez  iver  hear  of  his  writing  a ’pistle  to 
the  Pratestants?” 


356 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PROVIDENCE 

“Why  did  papa  have  appendicitis  and  have  to  pay  the  doctor 
a thousand  dollars,  Mama?” 

“It  was  God’s  will,  dear.” 

“And  was  it  because  God  was  mad  at  papa  or  pleased  with 
the  doctor?” — Life. 

There’s  a certain  minister  whose  duties  sometimes  call  him 
out  of  the  city.  He  has  always  arranged  for  some  one  of  his 
parishioners  to  keep  company  with  his  wife  and  little  daughter 
during  these  absences.  Recently,  however,  he  was  called  away 
so  suddenly  that  he  had  no  opportunity  of  providing  a guardian. 

The  wife  was  very  brave  during  the  early  evening,  but  after 
dark  had  fallen  her  courage  began  to  fail.  She  stayed  up  with 
her  little  girl  till  there  was  no  excuse  for  staying  any  longer 
and  then  took  her  upstairs  to  bed. 

“Now  go  to  sleep,  Dearie,”  she  said.  “Don’t  be  afraid.  God 
will  protect  you.” 

“Yes,  Mother,”  answered  the  little  girl,  “that’ll  be  all  right 
tonight,  but  next  time  let’s  make  better  arrangements.” 


PROVINCIALISM 

Some  time  ago  an  English  friend  of  Colonel  W.  J.  Lamp- 
ton’s  living  in  New  York  and  having  never  visited  the  South, 
went  to  Virginia  to  spend  a month  with  friends.  After  a fort- 
night of  it,  he  wrote  back: 

“Oh,  I say,  old  top,  you  never  told  me  that  the  South  was 
anything  like  I have  found  it,  and  so  different  to  the  North. 
Why,  man,  it’s  God’s  country.” 

The  Colonel,  who  gets  his  title  from  Kentucky,  answered 
promptly  by  postal. 

“Of  course  it  is,”  he  wrote.  “You  didn’t  suppose  God  was 
a Yankee,  did  you?” 

A southerner,  with  the  intense  love  for  his  own  district, 
attended  a banquet.  The  next  day  a friend  asked  him  who 
was  present.  With  a reminiscent  smile  he  replied : “An  ele- 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


35  7 


gant  gentleman  from  Virginia,  a gentleman  from  Kentucky, 
a man  from  Ohio,  a bounder  from  Chicago,  a fellow  from  New 
York,  and  a galoot  from  Maine.” 

They  had  driven  fourteen  miles  to  the  lake,  and  then  rowed 
six  miles  across  the  lake  to  get  to  the  railroad  station,  when 
the  Chicago  man  asked : 

“How  in  the  world  do  you  get  your  mail  and  newspapers 
here  in  the  winter  when  the  storms  are  on?” 

“Wa-al,  we  don’t  sometimes.  I’ve  seen  this  lake  thick  up 
so  that  it  was  three  weeks  before  we  got  a Chicago  paper,” 
answered  the  man  from  “nowhere.” 

“Well,  you  were  cut  off,”  said  the  Chicago  man. 

“Ya-as,  we  were  so,”  was  the  reply.  “Still,  the  Chicago 
folks  were  just  as  badly  off.” 

“How  so?” 

“Wa-al,”  drawled  the  man,  “we  didn’t  know  what  was  going 
on  in  Chicago,  of  course.  But  then,  neither  did  Chicago  folks 
know  what  was  going  on  down  here.” 


PUBLIC  SERVICE  CORPORATIONS 

The  attorney  demanded  to  know  how  many  secret  societies 
the  witness  belonged  to,  whereupon  the  witness  objected  and 
appealed  to  the  court. 

“The  court  sees  no  harm  in  the  question,”  answered  the 
judge.  “You  may  answer.” 

“Well,  I belong  to  three.” 

“What  are  they?” 

“The  Knights  of  Pythias,  the  Odd  Fellows,  and  the  gas 
company.” 


“Yes,  he  had  some  rare  trouble  with  his  eyes,”  said  the  cele- 
brated oculist.  “Every  time  he  went  to  read  he  would  read 
double.” 

“Poor  fellow,”  remarked  the  sympathetic  person.  ”1  sup- 
pose that  interfered  with  his  holding  a good  position?” 

“Not  at  all.  The  gas  company  gobbled  him  up  and  gave 
him  a lucrative  job  reading  gas-meters.” 


358 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PUBLIC  SPEAKERS 

Orator — “I  thought  your  paper  was  friendly  to  me?” 

Editor — “So  it  is.  What’s  the  matter?” 

Orator — “I  made  a speech  at  the  dinner  last  night,  and  you 
didn’t  print  a line  of  it.” 

Editor — “Well,  what  further  proof  do  you  want?” 

Traveling  Lecturer  for  Society  (to  the  remaining  listen- 
er)— “I  should  like  to  thank  you,  sir,  for  so  attentively  hearing 
me  to  the  end  of  a rather  too  long  speech.” 

Local  Member  of  Society — “Not  at  all,  sir.  I’m  the  second 
speaker.” 

Ex-senator  Spooner  of  Wisconsin  says  the  best  speech  of  in- 
troduction he  ever  heard  was  delivered  by  the  German  mayor 
of  a small  town  in  Wisconsin,  where  Spooner  had  been  en- 
gaged to  speak. 

The  mayor  said: 

“Ladies  und  shentlemens,  I haf  been  asked  to  indrotoose 
you  to  the  Honorable  Senator  Spooner,  who  vill  make  to  you 
a speech,  yes.  I haf  now  done  so;  he  vill  now  do  so.” 

“When  I arose  to  speak,”  related  a martyred  statesman, 
“some  one  hurled  a base,  cowardly  egg  at  me  and  it  struck 
me  in  the  chest.” 

“And  what  kind  of  an  egg  might  that  be?”  asked  a fresh 
young  man. 

“A  base,  cowardly  egg,”  explained  the  tsatesman,  “is  one  that 
hits  you  and  then  runs.” 

“Uncle  Joe”  Cannon  has  a way  of  speaking  his  mind  that 
is  sometimes  embarrassing  to  others.  On  one  occasion  an 
inexperienced  young  fellow  was  called  upon  to  make  a speech 
at  a banquet  at  which  ex-speaker  Cannon  was  also  present. 

“Gentlemen,”  began  the  young  fellow,  “my  opinion  is  that 
the  generality  of  mankind  in  general  is  disposed  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  generality  of ” 

“Sit  down,  son,”  interrupted  “Uncle  Joe.”  “You  are  com- 
ing out  of  the  same  hole  you  went  in  at.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


359 


A South  African  tribe  has  an  effective  method  of  dealing 
with  bores,  which  might  be  adopted  by  Western  peoples.  This 
simple  tribe  considers  long  speeches  injurious  to  the  orator  and 
his  hearers;  so  to  protect  both  there  is  an  unwritten  law  that 
every  public  orator  must  stand  on  only  one  leg  when  he  is 
addressing  an  audience.  As  soon  as  he  has  to  place  the  other 
leg  on  the  ground  his  oration  is  brought  to  a close,  by  main 
force,  if  necessary. 


A rather  turgid  orator,  noted  for  his  verbosity  and  heavi- 
ness, was  once  assigned  to  do  some  campaigning  in  a mining 
camp  in  the  mountains.  There  were  about  fifty  miners  pres- 
ent when  he  began;  but  when,  at  the  end  of  a couple  of  hours, 
he  gave  no  sign  of  finishing,  his  listeners  dropped  away. 

Some  went  back  to  work,  but  the  majority  sought  places  to 
quench  their  thirst,  which  had  been  aggravated  by  the  dryness 
of  the  discourse. 

Finally  there  was  only  one  auditor  left,  a dilapidated,  weary- 
looking  old  fellow.  Fixing  his  gaze  on  him,  the  orator  pulled 
out  a large  six-shooter  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  The  old  fellow 
rose  slowly  and  drawled  out: 

“Be  you  going  to  shoot  if  I go?” 

“You  bet  I am,”  replied  the  speaker.  “I’m  bound  to  finish  my 
speech,  even  if  I have  to  shoot  to  keep  an  audience.” 

The  old  fellow  sighed  in  a tired  manner,  and  edged  slowly 
away,  saying  as  he  did  so: 

“Well,  shoot  i£  you  want  to.  I may  jest  as  well  be  shot  as 
talked  to  death.” 


The  self-made  millionaire  who  had  endowed  the  school  had 
been  invited  to  make  the  opening  speech  at  the  commencement 
exercises.  He  had  not  often  had  a chance  of  speaking  before 
the  public  and  he  was  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it.  He 
dragged  his  address  out  most  tiresomely,  repeating  the  same 
thought  over  and  over.  Unable  to  stand  it  any  longer  a couple 
of  boys  in  the  rear  of  the  room  slipped  out.  A coachman  who 
was  waiting  outside  asked  them  if  the  millionaire  had  finished 
his  speech. 

“Gee,  yes!”  replied  the  boys,  %ut  he  won’t  stop.” 


360 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Mark  Twain  once  told  this  story: 

“Some  years  ago  in  Hartford,  we  all  went  to  church  one 
hot,  sweltering  night  to  hear  the  annual  report  of  Mr.  Hawley, 
a city  missionary  who  went  around  finding  people  who  needed 
help  and  didn’t  want  to  ask  for  it.  He  told  of  the  life  in 
cellars,  where  poverty  resided;  he  gave  instances  of  the  hero- 
ism and  devotion  of  the  poor.  When  a man  with  millions 
gives,  he  said,  we  make  a great  deal  of  noise.  It’s  a noise 
in  the  wrong  place,  for  it’s  the  widow’s  mite  that  counts.  Well, 
Hawley  worked  me  up  to  a great  pitch.  I could  hardly  wait 
for  him  to  get  through.  I had  $400  in  my  pocket.  I wanted  to 
give  that  and  borrow  more  to  give.  You  could  see  greenbacks 
in  every  eye.  But  instead  of  passing  the  plate  then,  he  kept  on 
talking  and  talking  and  talking,  and  as  he  talked  it  grew  hot- 
ter and  hotter  and  hotter,  and  we  grew  sleepier  and  sleepier 
and  sleepier.  My  enthusiasm  went  down,  down,  down,  down — 
$100  at  a clip — until  finally,  when  the  plate  did  come  around,  I 
stole  ten  cents  out  of  it.  It  all  goes  to  show  how  a little  thing 
like  this  can  lead  to  crime.” 

See  also  After  dinner  speeches;  Candidates;  Politicians. 
PUNISHMENT 

A parent  who  evidently  disapproved  of  corporal  punishment 
wrote  the  teacher: 

“Dear  Miss:  Don’t  hit  our  Johnnie.  We  never  do  it  at  home 
except  in  self-defense.” 

“No,  sirree!”  ejaculated  Bunkerton.  “There  wasn’t  any 

of  that  nonsense  in  my  family.  My  father  never  thrashed  me 
in  all  his  life.” 

“Too  bad,  too  bad,”  sighed  Hickenlooper.  “Another  wreck 
due  to  a misplaced  switch.” 

James  the  Second,  when  Duke  of  York,  made  a visit  to  Mil- 
ton,  the  poet,  and  asked  him  among  other  things,  if  he  did  not 
think  the  loss  of  his  sight  a judgment  upon  him  for  what  he 
had  writen  against  his  father,  Charles  the  First.  Milton  answer- 
ed: “If  your  Highness  think  my  loss  of  sight  a 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


361 


judgment  upon  me,  what  do  you  think  of  your  father’s  losing 
his  head.” — Life . 

A white  man  during  reconstruction  times  was  arraigned  be- 
fore a colored  justice  of  the  peace  for  killing  a man  and  steal- 
ing his  mule.  It  was  in  Arkansas,  near  the  Texas  border,  and 
there  was  some  rivalry  between  the  states,  but  the  colored  jus- 
tice tried  to  preserve  an  impartial  frame  of  mind. 

“We’s  got  two  kinds  ob  law  in  dis  yer  co’t,”  he  said:  “Texas 
law  an’  Arkansas  law.  Which  will  you  hab?” 

The  prisoner  thought  a minute  and  then  guessed  that  he 
would  take  the  Arkansas  law. 

“Den  I discharge  you  fo’  stealin’  de  mule,  an’  hang  you 
fo’  killin’  de  man.” 

“Hold  on  a minute,  Judge,”  said  the  prisoner.  “Better 
make  that  Texas  law.” 

'All  right.  Den  I fin’  you  fo’  killin’  de  man,  an’  hang  you 
fo’  stealin’  de  mule.” 

A lawyer  was  defending  a man  accused  of  housebreaking, 
and  said  to  the  court : 

“Your  Honor,  I submit  that  my  client  did  not  break  into 
the  house  at  all.  He  found  the  parlor  window  open  and 
merely  inserted  his  right  arm  and  removed  a few  trifling  arti- 
cles. Now,  my  client’s  arm  is  not  himself,  and  I fail  to  see 
how  you  can  punish  the  whole  individual  for  an  offense  com- 
mitted by  only  one  of  his  limbs.” 

“That  argument,”  said  the  judge,  “is  very  well  put.  Fol- 
lowing it  logically,  I sentence  the  defendant’s  arm  to  one 
year’s  imprisonment.  He  can  accompany  it  or  not,  as  he 
chooses.” 

The  defendant  smiled,  and  with  his  lawyer’s  assistance  un- 
screwed his  cork  arm,  and,  leaving  it  in  the  dock,  walked 

out. 

Muriel,  a five-year-old  subject  of  King  George,  has  been 
thought  by  her  parents  too  young  to  feel  the  weight  of  the 
rod,  and  has  been  ruled  by  moral  suasion  alone.  But  when, 
the  other  day,  she  achieved  disobedience  three  times  in  five 
minutes,  more  vigorous  measures  were  called  for,  and  her 
mother  took  an  ivory  paper-knife  from  the  table  and  struck 


362 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


her  smartly  across  her  little  bare  legs.  Muriel  looked  as- 
tounded. Her  mother  explained  the  reason  ijor  the  blow. 
Muriel  thought  deeply  for  a moment.  Then,  turning  toward 
the  door  with  a grave  and  disapproving  countenance,  she  an- 
nounced in  her  clear  little  English  voice : 

“I’m  going  up-stairs  to  tell  God  about  that  paper-knife. 
And  then  I shall  tell  Jesus.  And  if  that  doesn’t  do,  I shall 
put  flannel  on  my  legs!” 

During  the  reconstruction  days  of  Virginia,  a negro  was 
convicted  of  murdering  his  wife  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 
On  the  morning  of  the  execution  he  mounted  the  scaffold  with 
reasonable  calmness.  Just  before  the  noose  was  to  be  placed 
around  his  neck  the  sheriff  asked  him  if  he  had  anything  to 
say.  He  studied  a moment  and  said: 

‘‘No,  suh,  boss,  thankee,  suh,  ’ceptin’  dis  is  sho  gwine  to  be 
a lesson  to  me.” 

“What  punishment  did  that  defaulting  banker  get?” 

“I  understand  his  lawyer  charged  him  $40,000.” 

An  Indian  in  Washington  County  once  sized  up  Maine’s 
game  laws  thus : “Kill  cow  moose,  pay  $100 ; kill  man,  too 
bad !” 

Teacher — “Willie,  did  your  father  cane  you  for  what  you 
did  in  school  yesterday?” 

Pupil — “No,  ma’am;  he  said  the  licking  would  hurt  him 
more  than  it  would  me.” 

Teacher — “What  rot!  Your  father  is  too  sympathetic.” 

Pupil — “No,  ma’am;  but  he’s  got  the  rheumatism  in  both 
arms.” 

“Boohoo ! Boohoo !”  wailed  little  Johnny. 

“Why,  what’s  the  matter,  dear?”  his  mother  asked  com- 
fortingly. 

“Boohoo — er — p-picture  fell  on  papa’s  toes.” 

“Well,  dear,  that’s  too  bad,  but  you  mustn’t  cry  about  it, 
you  know.” 

“I  d-d-didn’t.  I laughed.  Boohoo ! Boohoo !” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


363 


The  fact  that  corporal  punishment  is  discouraged  in  the 
public  schools  of  Chicago  is  what  led  Bobby’s  teacher  to 
address  this  note  to  the  boy’s  mother : 

Dear  Madam  : — I regret  very  much  to  have  to  tell  you 
that  your  son,  Robert,  idles  away  his  time,  is  disobedient,  quar- 
relsome, and  disturbs  the  pupils  who  are  trying  to  study  their 
lessons.  He  needs  a good  whipping  and  I strongly  recommend 
that  you  give  him  one. 

Yours  truly, 

Miss  Blank. 

To  this  Bobby’s  mother  responded  as  follows: 

Dear  Miss  Blanks — Lick  him  yourself.  I ain’t  mad  at  him. 

Yours  truly, 

Mrs.  Dash. 


A little  fellow  who  was  being  subjected  to  a whipping 
pinched  his  father  under  the  knee.  “Willie,  you  bad  boy! 
How  dare  you  do  that?”  asked  the  parent  wrathfully. 

A pause.  Then  Willie  answered  between  sobs : “Well, 
Father,  who  started  this  war,  anyway?” 

A little  girl  about  three  years  old  was  sent  upstairs  and 
told  to  sit  on  a certain  chair  that  was  in  the  corner  of  her 
room,  as  a punishment  for  something  she  had  done  but  a few 
minutes  before. 

Soon  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  little  one’s  question : 
“Mother,  may  I come  down  now?” 

“No,  you  sit  right  where  you  are.” 

“All  right,  ’cause  I’m  sittin’  on  your  best  hat.” 


It  is  less  to  suffer  punishment  than  to  deserve  it, — Ovid. 


If  Jupiter  hurled  his  thunderbolt  as  often  as  men  sinned, 
he  would  soon  be  out  of  thunderbolts. — Ovid. 


See  also  Church  discipline:  Future  life:  Marriage. 


364 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


PUNS 

A father  once  said  to  his  son, 

“The  next  time  you  make  up  a pun, 

Go  out  in  the  yard 
And  kick  yourself  hard, 

And  I will  begin  when  you’ve  done.” 

PURE  FOOD 

Into  a general  store  of  a town  in  Arkansas  there  recently 
came  a darky  complaining  that  a ham  which  he  had  purchased 
there  was  not  good. 

“The  ham  is  all  right,  Zeph,”  insisted  the  storekeeper. 

“No,  it  ain’t,  boss,”  insisted  the  negro.  “Dat  ham’s  shore 
bad.” 

“How  can  that  be,”  continued  the  storekeeper,  “when  it  was 
cured  only  a week?” 

The  darky  scratched  his  head  reflectively,  and  finally  sug- 
gested : 

“Den,  mebbe  it’s  had  a relapse.” 

On  a recent  trip  to  Germany,  Doctor  Harvey  Wiley,  the 
pure-food  expert,  heard  an  allegory  with  reference  to  the  sub- 
ject of  food  adulteration  which,  he  contends,  should  cause 
Americans  to  congratulate  themselves  that  things  are  so  well 
ordered  in  this  respect  in  the  United  States. 

The  German  allegory  was  substantially  as  follows : 

Four  flies,  which  had  made  their  way  into  a certain  pantry, 
determined  to  have  a feast. 

One  flew  to  the  sugar  and  ate  heartily;  but  soon  died,  for 
the  sugar  was  full  of  white  lead. 

The  second  chose  the  flour  as  his  diet,  but  he  fared  no 
better,  for  the  flour  was  loaded  with  plaster  of  Paris. 

The  third  sampled  the  syrup,  but  his  six  legs  were  presently 
raised  in  the  air,  for  the  syrup  was  colored  with  aniline  dyes. 

The  fourth  fly,  seeing  all  his  friends  dead,  determined  to 
end  his  life  also,  and  drank  deeply  of  the  fly-poison  which  he 
found  in  a convenient  saucer. 

He  is  still  alive  and  in  good  health.  That,  too,  was  adul- 
terated. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


365 


QUARRELS 

“But  why  did  you  leave  your  last  place  ?”  the  lady  asked 
of  the  would-be  cook. 

“To  tell  the  truth,  mum,  I just  couldn’t  stand  the  way  the 
master  an’  the  missus  used  to  quarrel,  mum.” 

“Dear  me!  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  they  actually  used 
to  quarrel?” 

“Yis,  mum,  all  the  time.  When  it  wasn’t  me  an’  him,  it 
was  me  an’  her.” 

“I  hear  ye  had  words  with  Casey.” 

“We  had  no  words.” 

“Then  nothing  passed  between  ye?” 

“Nothing  but  one  brick.” 

There  had  been  a wordy  falling-out  between  Mrs.  Hallo- 
ran  and  Mrs.  Donohue ; there  had  been  words ; nay,  more,  there 
had  been  language.  Mrs.  Halloran  had  gone  to  church  early 
in  the  morning,  had  fulfilled  the  duties  of  her  religion,  and 
was  returning  primly  home,  when  Mrs.  Donohue  spied  her, 
and,  still  smouldering  with  volcanic  fire,  sent  a broadside  of 
lava  at  Mrs.  Halloran.  The  latter  heard,  flushed,  opened  her 
lips — and  then  suddenly  checked  herself.  After  a moment  she 
spoke:  “Mrs.  Donohue,  I’ve  just  been  to  church,  and  I’m  in  a 
state  of  grace.  But,  plaze  Hivin,  the  next  time  I meet  yez, 
I won’t  be,  and  thin  I’ll  till  yez  what  I think  of  yez !” 

A quarrel  is  quickly  settled  when  deserted  by  one  party: 
there  is  no  battle  unless  there  be  two. — Seneca. 

See  also  Marriage;  Servants 

QUESTIONS 

The  more  questions  a woman  asks  the  fewer  answers  she 
remembers. — Wasp. 

It  was  a very  hot  day  and  the  fat  drummer  who  wanted 
the  twelve-twenty  train  got  through  the  gate  at  just  twelve- 


366 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


twenty-one.  The  ensuing  handicap  was  watched  with  absorbed 
interest  both  from  the  train  and  the  station  platform.  At  its 
conclusion  the  breathless  and  perspiring  knight  of  the  road 
wearily  took  the  back  trail,  and  a vacant-faced  “red-cap”  came 
out  to  relieve  him  of  his  grip. 

“Mister,”  he  inquired,  “was  you  tryin’  to  ketch  that  Penn- 
sylvania train?” 

“No,  my  son,”  replied  the  patient  man.  “No;  I was  merely 
chasing  it  out  of  the  yard.” 

A party  of  young  men  were  camping,  and  to  avert  annoy- 
ing questions  they  made  it  a rule  that  the  one  who  asked  a 
question  that  he  could  not  answer  himself  had  to  do  the 
cooking. 

One  evening,  while  sitting  around  the  fire,  one  of  the 
boys  asked : “Why  is  it  that  a ground-squirrel  never  leaves 
any  dirt  at  the  mouth  of  its  burrow?” 

They  all  guessed  and  missed.  So  he  was  asked  to  answer 
it  himself. 

“Why,”  he  said,  “because  it  always  begins  to  dig  at  the 
other  end  of  the  hole.” 

“But,”  one  asked,  “how  does  it  get  to  the  other  end  of 
the  hole?” 

“Well,”  was  the  reply,  “that’s  your  question.” 

A browbeating  lawyer  was  demanding  that  a witness  an- 
swer a certain  question  either  in  the  negative  or  affirmative. 

“I  cannot  do  it,”  said  the  witness.  “There  are  some  ques- 
tions that  cannot  be  answered  by  a ‘yes’  or  a ‘no,’  as  any  one 
knows.” 

“I  defy  you  to  give  an  example  to  the  court,”  thundered  the 
lawyer. 

The  retort  came  like  a flash : “Are  you  still  beating  your 
wife?” 

Officers  have  a right  to  ask  questions  in  the  performance 
of  their  duty,  but  there  are  occasions  when  it  seems  as  if 
they  might  curtail  or  forego  the  privilege.  Not  long  ago  an 
Irishman  whose  hand  had  been  badly  mangled  in  an  accident 
entered  the  Boston  City  Hospital  relief  station  in  a great 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


367 


hurry.  He  stepped  up  to  the  man  in  charge  and  inquired : 

“Is  this  the  relief  station,  sor?” 

“Yes.  What  is  your  name?” 

“Patrick  O’Connor,  sor.” 

“Are  you  married?”  questioned  the  officer. 

“Yis,  sor,  but  is  this  the  relief  station?”  He  was  nursing 
his  hand  in  agony. 

“Of  course  it  is.  How  many  children  have  you?” 

“Eight,  sor.  But  sure,  this  is  the  relief  station?” 

“Yes,  it  is,”  replied  the  officer,  a little  angry  at  the  man’s 
persistence. 

“Well,”  said  Patrick,  “sure,  an’  I was  beginning  to  think 
that  it  might  be  the  pumping  station.” 

The  sages  say,  Dame  Truth  delights  to  dwell 
(Strange  Mansion!)  in  the  bottom  of  a well: 
Questions  are  then  the  Windlass  and  the  rope 
That  pull  the  grave  old  Gentlewoman  up. 

— John  Wolcott. 

See  also  Curiosity. 

QUOTATIONS 

Stanley  Jordan,  the  well-known  Episcopal  minister,  having 
cause  to  be  anxious  about  his  son’s  college  examinations,  told 
him  to  telegraph  the  result.  The  boy  sent  the  following  mes- 
sage to  his  parent : “Hymn  342,  fifth  verse,  last  two  lines.” 
Looking  it  up  the  father  found  the  words:  “Sorrow  van- 
quished, labor  ended,  Jordan  passed.” 

RACE  PREJUDICES 

A negro  preacher  in  a southern  town  was  edified  on  one 
occasion  by  the  recital  of  a dream  had  by  a member  of  the 
church. 

“I  was  a-dreamin’  all  dis  time,”  said  the  narrator,  “dat 
I was  in  ole  Satan’s  dominions.  I tell  you,  pahson,  dat  was 
shore  a bad  dream !” 

“Was  dere  any  white  men  dere?”  asked  the  dusky  divine. 
“Shore  dere  was — plenty  of  ’em,”  the  other  hastened  to 
assure  his  minister 


368 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“What  was  dey  a-doin’?” 

“Ebery  one  of  ’em,”  was  the  answer,  “was  a-holdin’  a cul- 
lud  pusson  between  him  an’  de  fire!” 

RACE  PRIDE 

Sam  Jones,  the  evangelist,  was  leading  a revival  meeting 
in  Huntsville,  Texas,  a number  of  years  ago,  and  at  the  close 
of  one  of  the  services  an  old  negro  woman  pushed  her  way 
up  through  the  crowd  to  the  edge  of  the  pulpit  platform.  Sam 
took  the  perspiring  black  hand  that  was  held  out  to  him,  and 
heard  the  old  woman  say:  “Brudder  Jones,  you  sho’  is  a fine 
preacher!  Yes,  suh ; de  Lord  bless  you.  You’s  des  everybody’s 
preacher.  You’s  de  white  folks’  preacher,  and  de  niggers’ 
preacher,  and  everybody’s  preacher.  Brudder  Jones,  yo’  skin’s 
white,  but,  thank  de  Lord,  yo’  heart’s  des  as  black  as  any 
nigger’s !” 

An  Irishman  and  a Jew  were  discussing  the  great  men  who 
had  belonged  to  each  race  and,  as  may  be  expected,  got  into 
a heated  argument.  Finally  the  Irishman  said : 

“Ikey,  listen.  For  ivery  great  Jew  ye  can  name  ye  may 
pull  out  one  of  me  whiskers,  an’  for  ivery  great  Irishman  I 
can  name  I’ll  pull  one  of  yours.  Is  it  a go?” 

They  consented,  and  Pat  reached  over,  got  hold  of  a whisker, 
said,  “Robert  Emmet,’  and  pulled. 

“Moses!”  said  the  Jew,  and  pulled  one  of  Pat’s  tenderest. 

“Dan  O’Connell,”  said  Pat  and  took  another. 

“Abraham,”  said  Ikey,  helping  himself  again. 

“Patrick  Henry,”  returned  Pat  with  a vicious  yank. 

“The  Twelve  Apostles,”  said  the  Jew,  taking  a handful  of 
whiskers. 

Pat  emitted  a roar  of  pain,  grasped  the  Jew’s  beard  with 
both  hands,  and  yelled,  “The  ancient  Order  of  Hibernians !” 

RACE  SUICIDE 

“Prisoner,  why  did  you  assault  this  landlord?” 

“Your  Honor,  because  I have  several  children  he  refused 
to  rent  me  a flat.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


369 


“Well,  that  is  his  privilege.” 

“But,  your  Honor,  he  calls  his  apartment  house  ‘The  Roose- 
velt/ ” 

RACES 

In  answer  to  the  question,  “What  are  the  five  great  races 
of  mankind?”  a Chinese  student  replied,  “The  100  yards,  the 
hurdles,  the  quartermile,  the  mile,  and  the  three  miles.” 


“Now,  Thomas,”  said  the  foreman  of  the  construction  gang 
to  a green  hand  who  had  just  been  put  on  the  job,  “keep  your 
eyes  open.  When  you  see  a train  coming  throw  down  your 
tools  and  jump  off  the  track.  Run  like  blazes.” 

“Sure !”  said  Thomas,  and  began  to  swing  his  pick.  In  a 
few  moments  the  Empire  State  Express  came  whirling  along. 
Thomas  threw  down  his  pick  and  started  up  the  track  ahead 
of  the  train  as  fast  as  he  could  run.  The  train  overtook  him 
and  tossed  him  into  a ditch.  Badly  shaken  up  he  was  taken 
to  the  hospital,  where  the  foreman  visited  him. 

“You  blithering  idiot,”  said  the  foreman,  “didn’t  I tell  you 
to  get  out  of  the  road?  Didn’t  I tell  you  to  take  care  and  get 
out  of  the  way?  Why  didn’t  you  run  up  the  side  of  the  hill?” 
“Up  the  soide  of  the  hill  is  it,  sor?”  said  Thomas  through 
the  bandages  on  his  face.  “Up  the  soide  of  the  hill?  Be  the 
powers,  I couldn’t  bate  it  on  the  level,  let  alone  runnin’  up- 
hill 1” 


RAILROADS 

“Talk  ’bout  railroads  bein’  a blessin’,”  said  Brother  Dickey, 
“des  look  at  de  loads  an’  loads  er  watermelons  deys  haulin’ 
out  de  state,  ter  dem  folks  ’way  up  North  what  never  done 
nuthin’  ter  deserve  sich  a dispensation !” 


On  one  of  the  southern  railroads  there  is  a station-build- 
ing that  is  commonly  known  by  travelers  as  the  smallest  rail- 
road station  in  America.  It  is  of  this  station  that  the  story 


370 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


is  told  that  an  old  farmer  was  expecting  a chicken-house  to 
arrive  there,  and  he  sent  one  of  his  hands,  a new-comer,  to 
fetch  it.  Arriving  there  the  man  saw  the  house,  loaded  it  on 
to  his  wagon  and  started  for  home.  On  the  way  he  met  a 
man  in  uniform  with  the  words  “Station  Agent”  on  his  cap. 

“Say,  hold  on.  What  have  you  got  on  that  wagon?”  he 
asked. 

“My  chicken-house,  of  course,”  was  the  reply. 

“Chicken-house  be  jiggered!”  exploded  the  official.  “That’s 
the  station!” 

“I  read  of  the  terrible  vengeance  inflicted  upon  one  of  their 
members  by  a band  of  robbers  in  Mississippi  last  week.” 

“What  did  they  do?  Shoot  him?” 

“No;  they  tied  him  upon  the  railroad  tracks.” 

“Awful!  And  he  was  ground  to  pieces,  I suppose?” 

“Nothing  like  it.  The  poor  fellow  starved  to  death  wait- 
ing for  the  next  train.” — W.  Dayton  Wegefarth. 

The  reporter  who  had  accompanied  the  special  train  to  the 
scene  of  the  wreck,  hurried  down  the  embankment  and  found 
a man  who  had  one  arm  in  a sling,  a bandage  over  one  eye, 
his  front  teeth  gone,  and  his  nose  knocked  four  points  to 
starboard,  sitting  on  a piece  of  the  locomotive  and  surveying 
the  horrible  ruin  all  about  him 

“Can  you  give  me  some  particulars  of  this  accident?”  asked 
the  reporter,  taking  out  his  notebook. 

“I  haven’t  heard  of  any  accident,  young  man,”  replied  the 
disfigured  party  stiffly. 

He  was  one  of  the  directors  of  the  railroad. 

The  Hon.  John  Sharp  Williams  had  an  engagement  to 
speak  in  a small  southern  town.  The  train  he  was  traveling 
on  was  not  of  the  swiftest,  and  he  lost  no  opportunity  of 
keeping  the  conductor  informed  as  to  his  opinions  of  that 
particular  road. 

“Well,  if  yer  don’t  like  it,”  the  conductor  finally  blurted  out, 
“why  in  thunder  don’t  yer  git  out  an’  walk?” 

“I  would,”  Mr.  Williams  blandly  replied,  “but  you  see  the 
committee  doesn’t  expect  me  until  this  train  gets  in.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


37 1 


“We  were  bounding  along,”  said  a recent  traveler  on  a 
local  South  African  single-line  railway,  “at  the  rate  of  about 
seven  miles  an  hour,  and  the  whole  train  was  shaking  terribly. 
I expected  every  moment  to  see  my  bones  protruding  through 
my  skin.  Passengers  were  rolling  from  one  end  of  the  car 
to  the  other.  I held  on  firmly  to  the  arms  of  the  seat.  Pres- 
ently we  settled  down  a bit  quieter;  at  least,  I could  keep  my 
hat  on,  and  my  teeth  didn’t  chatter. 

“There  was  a quiet  looking  man  -opposite  me.  I looked  up 
with  a ghastly  smile,  wishing  to  appear  cheerful,  and  said : 

“ ‘We  are  going  a bit  smoother,  I see.’ 

“ ‘Yes/  he  said,  ‘we’re  off  the  track  now.’  ” 

Three  men  were  talking  in  rather  a large  way  as  to  the 
excellent  train  service  each  had  in  his  special  locality:  one  was 
from  the  west,  one  from  New  England,  and  the  other  from 
New  York.  The  former  two  had  told  of  marvelous  doings 
of  trains,  and  it  is  distinctly  “up”  to  the  man  from  New 
York. 

“Now  in  New  York,”  he  said,  “we  not  only  run  our  trains 
fast,  but  we  also  start  them  fast.  I remember  the  case  of  a 
friend  of  mine  whose  wife  went  to  see  him  off  for  the' west 
on  the  Pennsylvania  at  Jersey  City.  As  the  train  was  about  to 
start  my  friend  said  his  final  good-by  to  his  wife,  and  leaned 
down  from  the  car  platform  to  kiss  her.  The  train  started, 
and,  would  you  believe  it,  my  friend  found  himself  kissing  a 
strange  woman  on  the  platform  at  Trenton!” 

And  the  other  men  gave  it  up. 

“Say,  young  man,”  asked  an  old  lady  at  the  ticket-office, 
“what  time  does  the  next  train  pull  in  here  and  how  long  does 
it  stay?” 

“From  two  to  two  to  two-two,”  was  the  curt  reply. 

“Well,  I declare!  Be  you  the  whistle?” 

An  express  on  the  Long  Island  Railroad  was  tearing  away 
at  a wild  and  awe-inspiring  rate  of  six  miles  an  hour,  when 
all  of  a sudden  it  stopped  altogether.  Most  of  the  passengers 
did  not  notice  the  difference ; but  one  of  them  happened  to  be 
somewhat  anxious  to  reach  his  destination  before  old  age 


372 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


claimed  him  for  its  own.  He  put  his  head  through  the  window 
to  find  that  the  cause  of  the  stop  was  a cow  on  the  track.  After 
a while  they  continued  the  journey  for  half  an  hour  or  so, 
and  then — another  stop. 

“What’s  wrong  now?”  asked  the  impatient  passenger  of  the 
conductor. 

“A  cow  on  the  track.” 

“But  I thought  you  drove  it  off.” 

“So  we  did,”  said  the  conductor,  “but  we  caught  up  with  it 
again.” 


The  president  of  one  great  southern  railway  pulled  into  a 
southern  city  in  his  private  car.  It  was  also  the  terminal  of 
a competing  road,  and  the  private  car  of  the  president  of  the 
other  line  was  on  a side  track.  There  was  great  rivalry  be- 
tween these  two  lines,  which  extended  from  the  president  of 
each  down  to  the  most  humble  employe.  In  the  evening  the 
colored  cook  from  one  of  the  cars  wandered  over  to  pass 
the  time  of  day  with  the  cook  on  the  other  car. 

One  of  these  roads  had  recently  had  an  appalling  list  of 
accidents,  and  the  death-toll  was  exceptionally  high.  The  cook 
from  this  road  sauntered  up  to  the  back  platform  of  the  private 
car,  and  after  an  interchange  of  courtesies  said : 

“Well,  how  am  youh  ole  jerkwatah  railroad  these  days? 
Am  you  habbing  prosper’s  times?” 

“Man,”  said  the  other,  “we-all  am  so  prosperous  that  if 
we  was  any  moah  prosperous  we  just  naturally  couldn’t  stand 
hit.’ 

“Hough !”  said  the  other,  “we-all  am  moah  prosperous  than 
you-all.” 

“Man,”  said  the  other,  “we  dun  carry  moah’n  a million 
passengers  last  month.” 

“Foah  dc  Lord’s  sake!”  ejaculated  the  first  negro.  “You-all 
carried  moah’n  a million  passengers?  Go  on  with  you,  nigger; 
we  dun  kill  moah  passengers  than  you  carry.” 


It  was  on  a little  branch  railway  in  a southern  state  that 
the  New  England  woman  ventured  to  refer  to  the  high  rates. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


373 


“It  seems  to  me  five  cents  a mile  is  extortion,”  she  said,  with 
frankness,  to  her  southern  cousin. 

“It’s  a big  lot  of  money  to  pay  if  you  think  of  it  by  the 
mile,”  said  the  southerner,  in  her  soft  drawl;  “but  you  just 
think  how  cheap  it  is  by  the  hour,  Cousin  Annie — only  about 
thirty-five  cents.” — Youth’s  Companion. 


RAPID  TRANSIT 

One  cold,  wintry  morning  a man  of  tall  and  angular  build 
was  walking  down  a steep  hill  at  a quick  pace.  A treacherous 
piece  of  ice  under  the  snow  caused  him  to  lose  control  of  his 
feet;  he  began  to  slide  and  was  unable  to  stop. 

At  a cross-street  half-way  down  the  decline  he  encountered 
a large,  heavy  woman,  with  her  arms  full  of  bundles.  The 
meeting  was  sudden,  and  before  either  realized  it  a collision 
ensued  and  both  were  sliding  down  hill,  a grand  ensemble — 
the  thin  man  underneath,  the  fat  woman  and  bundles  on  top. 
When  the  bottom  was  reached  and  the  woman  was  trying  in 
vain  to  recover  her  breath  and  her  feet,  these  faint  words  were 
borne  to  her  ear: 

“Pardon  me,  madam,  but  you  will  have  to  get  off  here.  This 
is  as  far  as  I go.” 


READING 

See  Books  and  Reading. 

REAL  ESTATE  AGENTS 

Little  Nelly  told  little  Anita  what  she  termed  a “little  fib.” 

Anita — “A  fib  is  the  same  as  a story,  and  a story  is  the  same 
as  a lie.” 

Nelly — “No,  it  is  not.” 

Anita — “Yes,  it  is,  because  my  father  said  so,  and  my  father 
is  a professor  at  the  university.” 

Nelly — “I  don’t  care  if  he  is.  My  father  is  a real  estate  man, 
and  he  knows  more  about  lying  than  your  father  does.” 


374 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


REALISM 

The  storekeeper  at  Yount,  Idaho,  tells  the  following  tale  of 
Ole  Olson,  who  later  became  the  little  town’s  mayor. 

“One  night,  just  before  closin’  sup  time,  Ole,  hatless,  coat- 
less, and  breathless,  come  rushin’  into  the  store,  an’  droppin’ 
on  his  knees  yelled,  ‘Yon,  Yon,  hide  me,  hide  me!  Ye  sheriff’s 
after  me!’ 

“ ‘I’ve  no  place  to  hide  you  here,  Ole,’  said  I. 

“‘You  moost,  you  moost!’  screamed  Ole. 

“ ‘Crawl  into  that  gunny-sack  then,’  said  I. 

“He’d  no  more’n  gotten  hid  when  in  runs  the  sheriff. 

“‘Seen  Ole?’  said  he. 

“ ‘Don’t  see  him  here,’  said  I,  without  lyin’. 

“Then  the  sheriff  went  a-nosin’  round  an’  pretty  soon  he 
spotted  the  gunny-sack  over  in  the  corner. 

“‘What’s  in  here?’  said  he. 

“ ‘Oh,  just  some  old  harness  and  sleigh-bells,’  said  I. 

“With  that  he  gives  it  an  awful  boot. 

“ ‘Yingle,  yingle,  yingle !’  moaned  Ole.” 

Mother — “Tommy,  if  you’re  pretending  to  be  an  automobile, 
I wish  you’d  run  over  to  the  store  and  get  me  some  butter.” 

Tommy — “I’m  awful  sorry,  Mother,  but  I’m  all  out  of  gaso- 
line.”— Judge. 

“Children,”  said  the  teacher,  instructing  the  class  in  com- 
position, “you  should  not  attempt  any  flights  of  fancy;  simply 
be  yourselves  and  write  what  is  in  you.  Do  not  imitate  any 
other  person’s  writings  or  draw  inspiration  from  outside 
sources.” 

As  a result  of  this  advice  Tommy  Wise  turned  out  the  fol- 
lowing composition:  “We  should  not  attempt  any  flights  of 
fancy,  but  write  what  is  in  us.  In  me  there  is  my  stummick, 
lungs,  hart,  liver,  two  apples,  one  piece  of  pie,  one  stick  of 
lemon  candy  and  my  dinner.” 

“A  great  deal  of  fun  has  been  poked  at  the  realistic  school 
of  art,”  says  a New  York  artist,  “and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
some  ground  has  been  given  to  the  enemy.  Why,  there  recently 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


375 


came  to  my  notice  a picture  of  an  Assyrian  bath,  done  by  a 
Chicago  man,  and  so  careful  was  he  of  all  the  details  that  the 
towels  hanging  up  were  all  marked  ‘Nebuchadnezzar’  in  the 
corner,  in  cuneiform  characters.” 

RECALL 

Sunday  School  Teacher — “Johnny,  what  is  the  text  from 
Judges?” 

Johnny — “I  don’t  believe  in  recalling  the  judiciary,  mum.” 

“Senator,  why  don’t  you  unpack  your  trunk?  You’ll  be  in 
Washington  for  six  years.” 

“I  don’t  know  about  that.  My  state  has  the  recall.” 

RECOMMENDATIONS 

A firm  of  shady  outside  London  brokers  was  prosecuted  for 
swindling.  In  acquitting  them  the  court,  with  great  severity, 
said : 

“There  is  not  sufficient  evidence  to  convict  you,  but  if  anyone 
wishes  to  know  my  opinion  of  you  I hope  that  they  will  refer 
to  me.” 

Next  day  the  firm’s  advertisement  appeared  in  every  avail- 
able medium  with  the  following,  well  displayed : “Reference 
as  to  probity,  by  special  permission,  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  of 
England.” 

Mistress — “Have  you  a reference?” 

Bridget — “Foine;  Oi  held  the  poker  over  her  till  Oi  got  it.” 

There  is  a story  of  a Scotch  gentleman  who  had  to  dismiss 
his  gardener  for  dishonesty.  For  the  sake  of  the  man’s  wife 
and  family,  however,  he  gave  him  a “character,”  and  framed 
it  in  this  way:  “I  hereby  certify  that  A.  B.  has  been  my  garden- 
er for  over  two  years,  and  that  during  that  time  he  got  more 
out  of  the  garden  than  any  man  I ever  employed.” 

The  buxom  maid  had  been  hinting  that  she  did  not  think 
much  of  working  out,  and  this  in  conjunction  with  the  nightly 


376 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


appearance  of  a rather  sheepish  young  man  caused  her  mis- 
tress much  apprehension. 

“Martha,  is  it  possible  that  you  are  thinking  of  getting 
married?” 

“Yes’m,”  admitted  Martha,  blushing. 

“Not  that  young  fellow  who  has  been  calling  on  you  lately?” 

“Yes’m  he’s  the  one.” 

“But  you  have  only  known  him  a few  days.” 

“Three  weeks  come  Thursday,”  corrected  Martha. 

“Do  you  think  that  is  long  enough  to  know  a man  before 
taking  such  an  important  step?” 

“Well,”  answered  Martha  with  spirit,  “’tain’t  ’s  if  he  was 
some  new  feller.  He’s  well  recommended;  a perfectly  lovely 
girl  I know  was  engaged  to  him  for  a long  while.” 

An  Englishman  and  an  Irishman  went  to  the  captain  of  a 
ship  bound  for  America  and  asked  permission  to  work  their 
passage  over.  The  captain  consented,  but  asked  the  Irishman 
for  references  and  let  the  Englishman  go  on  without  them. 
This  made  the  Irishman  angry  and  he  planned  to  get  even. 

One  day  when  they  were  washing  off  the  deck,  the  Eng- 
lishman leaned  far  over  the  rail,  dropped  the  bucket,  and  was 
just  about  to  haul  it  up  when  a huge  wave  came  and  pulled 
him  overboard.  The  Irishman  stopped  scrubbing,  went  over 
to  the  rail  and,  seeing  the  Englishman  had  disappeared,  went 
to  the  Captain  and  said:  “Perhaps  yez  remember  whin  I shipped 
aboard  this  vessel  ye  asked  me  for  riferences  and  let  the  Eng- 
lishman come  on  widout  thim?” 

The  Captain  said:  “Yes,  I remember.” 

“Well,  ye’ve  been  decaved,”  said  the  Irishman;  “he’s  gone 
off  wid  yer  pail!” 

RECONCILIATIONS 

“Yes,  I quarreled  with  my  wife  about  nothing.” 

“Why  don’t  you  make  up?” 

“I’m  going  to.  All  I’m  worried  about  now  is  the  indemnity.” 
REFORMERS 

Louise — “The  man  that  Edith  married  is  a reformer.” 

Julia — “How  did  he  lose  his  money?” — Judge. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


377 


He  was  earnestly  but  prosily  orating  at  the  audience.  “I 
want  land  reform/’  he  wound  up,  “I  want  housing  reform,  1 
want  educational  reform,  I want ” 

And  said  a bored  voice  in  the  audience:  “Chloroform.” 

The  young  woman  sat  before  her  glass  and  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  at  the  reflection  there.  She  screwed  up  her  face  in 
many  ways.  She  fluffed  her  hair  and  then  smoothed  it  down 
again;  she  raised  her  eyes  and  lowered  them;  she  showed  her 
teeth  and  she  pressed  her  lips  tightly  together.  At  last  she  got 
up,  with  a weary  sigh,  and  said: 

“It’s  no  use.  I’ll  be  some  kind  of  reformer.” 

REGRETS 

A Newport  man  who  was  invited  to  a house  party  at  Bar 
Harbor,  telegraphed  to  the  hostess:  “Regret  I can’t  come.  Lie 
follows  by  post.” 

After  the  death  of  Lord  Houghton,  there  was  found  in  his 
correspondence  the  following  reply  to  a dinner  invitation:  “Mrs. 
presents  her  compliments  to  Lord  Houghton.  Her  hus- 
band died  on  Tuesday,  otherwise  he  would  have  been  delighted 
to  dine  with  Lord  Houghton  on  Thursday  next.” 

A young  woman  prominent  in  the  social  set  of  an  Ohio  town 
tells  of  a young  man  there  who  had  not  familiarized  himself 
with  the  forms  of  polite  correspondence  to  the  fullest  extent. 
When,  on  one  occasion,  he  found  it  necessary  to  decline  an 
invitation,  he  did  so  in  the  following  terms: 

“Mr.  Henry  Blank  declines  with  pleasure  Mrs.  Wood’s  in- 
vitation for  the  nineteenth,  and  thanks  her  extremely  for  hav- 
ing given  him  the  opportunity  of  doing  so.” 

REHEARSALS 

The  funeral  procession  was  moving  along  the  village  street 
when  Uncle  Abe  stepped  out  of  a store.  He  hadn’t  heard  the 


news. 


378 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Sho,”  said  Uncle  Abe,  “who  they  buryin’  today  ?” 

“Pore  old  Tite  Harrison,”  said  the  storekeeper. 

“Sho,”  said  Uncle  Abe.  “Tite  Harrison,  hey?  Is  Tite 
dead?” 

“You  don’t  think  we’re  rehearsin’ with  him,  do  you?”  snapped 
the  storekeeper. 


RELATIVES 

“It  is  hard,  indeed,”  said  the  melancholy  gentleman,  “to  lose 
one’s  relatives.” 

“Hard?”  snorted  the  gentleman  of  wealth.  “Hard?  It  is 
impossible !” 


RELIGIONS 

When  Bishop  Phillips  Brooks  sailed  from  America  on  his 
last  trip  to  Europe,  a friend  jokingly  remarked  that  while  a- 
broad  he  might  discover  some  new  religion  to  bring  home 
with  him.  “But  be  careful  of  it,  Bishop  Brooks,”  remarked  a 
listening  friend;  “it  may  be  difficult  to  get  your  new  religion 
through  the  Custom  House.” 

“I  guess  not,”  replied  the  Bishop,  laughingly,  “for  we  may 
take  it  for  granted  that  any  new  religion  popular  enough  to 
import  will  have  no  duties  attached  to  it.” 

At  a recent  conference  of  Baptists,  Methodists,  and  Eng- 
lish Friends,  in  the  city  of  Chengtu,  China,  two  Chinamen 
were  heard  discussing  the  three  denominations.  One  of  them 
said  to  the  other: 

“They  say  these  denominations  have  different  beliefs.  Just 
what  is  the  difference  between  them?” 

“Oh,”  said  the  other,  “Not  much!  Big  washee,  little  washee, 
no  washee,  that  is  all.” 


A recent  book  on  Russia  relates  the  story  of  the  anger  of 
the  Apostle  John  because  a certain  peasant  burned  no  tapers 
to  his  ikon,  but  honored,  instead,  the  ikon  of  Apostle  Petei 
in  St.  John’s  own  church.  The  two  apostles  talked  it  over  as 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


379 


they  walked  the  fields  near  Kieff,  and  Apostle  John  decided 
to  send  a terrible  storm  to  destroy  the  just  ripe  corn  of  the 
peasant.  His  decision  was  carried  out,  and  the  next  day  he 
met  Apostle  Peter  and  boasted  of  his  punishing  wrath. 

And  Apostle  Peter  only  laughed.  “Ai,  yi,  yi,  Apostle  John,” 
he  said,  “what  a mess  you’ve  made  of  it.  I stepped  around, 
saw  my  friend,  and  told  him  what  you  were  going  to  do,  so 
he  sold  his  corn  to  the  priest  of  your  church.” 


The  priest  of  a New  York  parish  met  one  of  his  parish- 
ioners, who  had  long  been  out  of  work,  and  asked  him  whether 
he  had  found  anything  to  do.  The  man  grinned  with  infinite 
satisfaction,  and  replied : 

“Yiss  indade,  yer  Riverince,  an’  a foine  job  too!  Oi’m 
gettin’  three  dollars  a day  fur  pullin’  down  a Prodesant  church !” 


A man  addicted  to  walking  in  his  sleep  went  to  bed  all 
right  one  night,  but  when  he  awoke  he  found  himself  on  the 
street  in  the  grasp  of  a policeman.  “Hold  on,”  he  cried,  “you 
mustn’t  arrest  me.  I’m  a somnambulist.”  To  which  the  po- 
liceman replied : “I  don’t  care  what  your  religion  is — yer  can’t 
walk  the  streets  in  yer  nightshirt.” 


The  friendship  existing  between  Father  Kelly  and  Rabbi 
Levi  is  proof  against  differences  in  race  and  religion.  Each 
distinguished  for  his  learning,  his  eloquence  and  his  wit ; and 
they  delight  in  chaffing  each  other.  They  were  seated  opposite 
each  other  at  a banquet  where  some  delicious  roast  ham  was 
served  and  Father  Kelly  made  comments  upon  its  flavor.  Pres- 
ently he  leaned  forward  and  in  a voice  that  carried  far,  he  ad- 
dressed his  friend : 

“Rabbi  Levi,  when  are  you  going  to  become  liberal  enough 
to  eat  ham?” 

“At  your  wedding,  Father  Kelly,”  retorted  the  rabbi. 


The  broad-minded  see  the  truth  in  different  religions ; the 
narrow-minded  see  only  their  differences. — Chinese  proverb. 


380 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


REMEDIES 

Mistress — “Did  the  mustard  plaster  do  you  any  good, 
Bridget?” 

Maid — “Yes;  but,  begorry,  mum,  it  do  bite  the  tongue!” 

Sufferer — “I  have  a terrible  toothache  and  want  something 
to  cure  it.” 

Friend — “Now,  you  don’t  need  any  medicine.  I had  a tooth- 
ache yesterday  and  I went  home  and  my  loving  wife  kissed 
me  and  so  consoled  me  that  the  pain  soon  passed  away.  Why 
don’t  you  try  the  same?” 

Sufferer — “I  think  I will.  Is  your  wife  at  home  now?” 

For  every  ill  beneath  the  sun 

There  is  some  remedy  or  none; 

If  there  be  one,  resolve  to  find  it; 

If  not,  submit,  and  never  mind  it. 

REMINDERS 

The  wife  of  an  overworked  promoter  said  at  breakfast: 

“Will  you  post  this  letter  for  me,  dear?  It’s  to  the  furrier, 
countermanding  my  order  for  that  $900  sable  and  ermine  stole. 
You’ll  be  sure  to  remember?” 

The  tired  eyes  of  the  harassed,  shabby  promoter  lit  up 
with  joy.  He  seized  a skipping  rope  that  lay  with  a heap  of 
dolls  and  toys  in  a corner,  and  going  to  his  wife,  he  said : 

“Here,  tie  my  right  hand  to  my  left  foot  so  I won’t  forget!” 

REPARTEE 

Repartee  is  saying  on  the  instant  what  you  didn’t  say  until 
the  next  morning. 

Among  the  members  of  a working  gang  on  a certain  railroad 
was  an  Irishman  who  claimed  to  be  very  good  at  figures.  The 
boss,  thinking  that  he  would  get  ahead  of  Pat,  said : “Say,  Pat, 
how  many  shirts  can  you  get  out  of  a yard?” 

“That  depends,”  answered  Pat,  “on  whose  yard  you  get 
into.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


38 1 


A middle-aged  farmer  accosted  a serious-faced  youth  out- 
side the  Grand  Central  Station  in  New  York  the  other  day. 

“Young  man,”  he  said,  plucking  his  sleeve,  “I  wanter  go 
to  Central  Park.” 

The  youth  seemed  lost  in  consideration  for  a moment. 

“Well,”  he  said  finally,  “you  may  just  this  once.  But  I 
don't  want  you  ever,  ever  to  ask  me  again.” 

Seedy  Visitor — “Do  you  have  many  wrecks  about  here, 
boatman  ?” 

Boatman — “Not  very  many,  sir.  You're  the  first  I’ve  seen 
this  season.” 

Her  Dad — “No,  sir;  I won’t  have  my  daughter  tied  for  life 
to  a stupid  fool.” 

Her  Suitor — “Then  don’t  you  think  you’d  better  let  me 
take  her  off  your  hands?” 


Wendell  Phillips  was  traveling  through  Ohio  once  when  he 
fell  in  with  a car  full  of  ministers  returning  from  a conven- 
tion. One  of  the  ministers,  a southerner  from  Kentucky,  was 
naturally  not  very  cordial  to  the  opinions  of  the  great  abo- 
litionist and  set  out  to  embarrass  Mr.  Phillips.  So,  before  the 
group  of  ministers,  he  said : 

“You  are  Wendell  Phillips,  are  you  not?” 

“Yes,”  answered  the  great  abolitionist. 

“And  you  are  trying  to  free  the  niggers,  aren’t  you?” 

“Yes,  sir;  I am.” 

“Well,  why  do  you  preach  your  doctrines  up  here?  Why 
don’t  you  go  over  into  Kentucky?” 

“Excuse  me,  are  you  a preacher?” 

“I  am,  sir.” 

“Are  you  trying  to  save  souls  from  hell?” 

“Yes,  sir;  that  is  my  business.” 

“Well,  why  don’t  you  go  there  then?”  asked  Mr.  Phillips. 

Solemn  Senior — “So  your  efforts  to  get  on  the  team  were 
fruitless,  were  they?” 

Foolish  Freshman — “Oh,  no!  Not  at  all.  They  gave  me 
a lemon.” — Harvard  Lampoon. 


382 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A benevolent  person  watched  a workman  laboriously  wind- 
lassing  rock  from  a shaft  while  the  broiling  sun  was  beating 
down  on  his  bare  head. 

“My  dear  man,”  observed  the  onlooker,  “are  you  not  afraid 
that  your  brain  will  be  affected  in  the  hot  sun?” 

The  laborer  contemplated  him  for  a moment  and  then  re- 
plied : 

“Do  you  think  a man  with  any  brains  would  be  working  at 
this  kind  of  a job?” 

Winston  Churchill,  the  young  English  statesman,  recently 
began  to  raise  a mustache,  and  while  it  was  still  in  the  bud- 
ding stage  he  was  asked  at  a dinner  party  to  take  in  to  dinner 
an  English  girl  who  had  decided  opposing  political  views. 

“I  am  sorry,”  said  Mr.  Churchill,  “we  cannot  agree  on  pol- 
itics.” 

“No,  we  can’t,”  rejoined  the  girl,  “for  to  be  frank  with  you 
I like  your  politics  about  as  little  as  I do  your  mustache.” 

“Well,”  replied  Mr.  Churchill,  “remember  that  you  are  not 
likely  to  come  into  contact  with  either.” 

Strickland  Gillilan,  the  lecturer  and  the  man  who  pole- 
vaulted  into  fame  by  his  “Off  Ag’in,  On  Ag’in,  Finnigin” 
verses,  was  about  to  deliver  a lecture  in  a small  Missouri  town. 
He  asked  the  chairman  of  the  committee  whether  he  might 
have  a small  pitcher  of  ice-water  on  the  platform  table. 

“To  drink?”  queried  the  committeeman. 

“No,”  answered  Gillilan.  “I  do  a high-diving  act.” 

Traveler — “Say,  boy,  your  corn  looks  kind  of  yellow.” 

Boy — “Yes,  sir.  That’s  the  kind  we  planted.” 

Traveler — “Looks  as  though  you  will  only  have  half  a crop.” 

Boy— “Don’t  expect  any  more.  The  landlord  gets  the  other 
half.” 

Traveler  (after  a moment’s  thought) — “Say,  there  is  not 
much  difference  between  you  and  a fool.” 

Boy— “No,  sir.  Only  the  fence.” 

President  Lincoln  was  busily  engaged  in  his  office  when  an 
attendant,  a young  man  of  sixteen,  unceremoniously  entered 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


383 


and  gave  him  a card.  Without  rising,  the  President  glanced 
at  the  card.  “Pshaw.  She  here  again?  I told  her  last  week 
that  I could  not  interfere  in  her  case.  I cannot  see  her/’  he 
said  impatiently.  “Get  rid  of  her  any  way  you  can.  Tell  her 
I am  asleep,  or  anything  you  like.” 

Quickly  returning  to  the  lady  in  an  adjacent  room,  this  ex- 
ceedingly bright  boy  said  to  her,  “The  President  told  me  to 
tell  you  that  he  is  asleep.” 

The  lady’s  eyes  sparkled  as  she  responded,  “Ah,  he  says  he 
is  asleep,  eh?  Well,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  return  and 
ask  him  when  he  intends  to  wake  up?” 

The  garrulous  old  lady  in  the  stern  of  the  boat  had  pestered 
the  guide  with  her  comments  and  questions  ever  since  they 
had  started.  Her  meek  little  husband,  who  was  hunched  toad- 
like in  the  bow,  fished  in  silence.  The  old  lady  had  seem- 
ingly exhausted  every  possible  point  in  fish  and  animal  life, 
woodcraft,  and  personal  history  when  she  suddenly  espied  one 
of  those  curious  paths  of  oily,  unbroken  water  frequently 
seen  on  small  lakes  which  are  ruffled  by  a light  breeze. 

“Oh,  guide,  guide,”  she  exclaimed,  “what  makes  that  funny 
streak  in  the  water — No,  there — Right  over  there!” 

The  guide  was  busy  re-baiting  the  old  gentleman’s  hook 
and  merely  mumbled  “U-m-mm.” 

“Guide,”  repeated  the  old  lady  in  tones  that  were  not  to 
be  denied,  “look  right  over  there  where  I’m  pointing  and  tell 
me  what  makes  that  funny  streak  in  the  water.” 

The  guide  looked  up  from  his  baiting  with  a sigh. 

“That?  Oh,  that’s  where  the  road  went  across  the  ice  last 
winter.” 

Nothing  more  clearly  expresses  the  sentiments  of  Harvard 
men  in  seasons  of  athletic  rivalry  than  the  time-honored  “To 
hell  with  Yale!” 

Once  when  Dean  Briggs,  of  Harvard,  and  Edward  Everett 
Hale  were  on  their  way  to  a game  at  Soldiers’  Field  a friend 
asked : 

“Where  are  you  going,  Dean?” 

“To  yell  with  Hale,”  answered  Briggs  with  a meaning 
smile. 


384 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


John  Kendrick  Bangs  one  day  called  up  his  wife  on  the  tel- 
ephone. The  maid  at  the  other  end  did  not  recognize  her 
“master’s  voice,”  and  after  Bangs  had  told  her  whom  he 
wanted  the  maid  asked : 

“Do  you  wish  to  speak  with  Mrs.  Bangs?” 

“No,  indeed,”  replied  the  humorist;  “I  want  to  kiss  her.” 

A boy  took  a position  in  an  office  where  two  different  tele- 
phones were  installed. 

“Your  wife  would  like  to  speak  to  you  on  the  ’phone,  sir,” 
he  said  to  his  employer. 

“Which  one?”  inquired  the  boss,  starting  toward  the  two 
booths. 

“Please,  sir,  she  didn’t  say,  and  I didn’t  know  that  you  had 
more  than  one.” 

An  Englishman  was  being  shown  the  sights  along  the  Poto- 
mac. “Here,”  remarked  the  American,  “is  where  George  Wash- 
ington threw  a dollar  across  the  river.” 

“Well,”  replied  the  Englishman,  “that  is  not  very  remark- 
able, for  a dollar  went  much  further  in  those  days  than  it 
does  now.” 

The  American  would  not  be  worsted,  so,  after  a short 
pause,  he  said:  “But  Washington  accomplished  a greater  feat 
than  that.  He  once  chucked  a sovereign  across  the  Atlantic.” 

Pat  was  busy  on  a road  working  with  his  coat  off.  There 
were  two  Englishmen  laboring  on  the  same  road,  so  they  de- 
cided to  have  a joke  with  the  Irishman.  They  painted  a don- 
key’s head  on  the  back  of  Pat’s  coat,  and  watched  to  see  him 
put  it  on.  Pat,  of  course,  saw  the  donkey’s  head  on  his  coat, 
and,  turning  to  the  Englishmen,  said: 

“Which  of  yez  wiped  your  face  on  me  coat?” 

A district  leader  went  to  Sea  Girt,  in  1912,  to  see  the  Dem- 
ocratic candidate  for  President.  In  the  course  of  an  animated 
conversation,  the  leader,  noticing  that  Governor  Wilson’s  eye- 
glasses were  perched  perilously  near  the  tip  of  his  nose  re- 
marked: “Your  glasses,  Governor,  are  almost  on  your  mouth.” 

“That’s  all  right,”  was  the  quick  response.  “I  want  to  see 
what  I’m  talking  about.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


3^5 


According  to  the  London  Globe  two  Germans  were  halted 
at  the  French  frontier  by  the  customs  officers.  “We  have  each 
to  declare  three  bottles  of  red  wine/’  said  one  of  the  Germans 
to  the  douaniers.  “How  much  to  pay?” 

“Where  are  the  bottles?”  asked  the  customs  man. 

“They  are  within!”  laughed  the  Teuton  making  a gesture. 

The  French  douanier,  unruffled,  took  down  his  tariff  book 
and  read,  or  pretended  to  read:  “Wines  imported  in  bottles  pay 
so  much,  wines  imported  in  barrels  pay  so  much,  and  wines  en 
peaux  d’dne  pay  no  duty.  You  can  pass,  gentlemen.” 

A small  boy  was  hoeing  corn  in  a sterile  field  by  the  road- 
side, when  a passer-by  stopped  and  said: 

“’Pears  to  me  your  corn  is  rather  small.” 

“Certainly,”  said  the  boy;  “it’s  dwarf  corn.” 

“But  it  looks  yaller.” 

“Certainly;  we  planted  the  yaller  kind.” 

“But  it  looks  as  if  you  wouldn’t  get  more  than  half  a crop.” 

“Of  course  not;  we  planted  it  on  halves.” 

REPORTING 

See  Journalism;  Newspapers. 

REPUBLICAN  PARTY 

The  morning  after  a banquet,  during  the  Democratic  con- 
vention in  Baltimore,  a prominent  Republican  thus  greeted  an 
equally  well-known  Democrat : 

“I  understand  there  were  some  Republicans  at  the  banquet 
last  night.” 

“Oh,  yes,”  said  the  Democrat  genially,  “one  waited  on  me.” 
REPUTATION 

Popularity  is  when  people  like  you;  and  reputation  is  when 
they  ought  to,  but  really  can’t. — Frank  Richardson. 

RESEMBLANCES 

Senator  Blackburn  is  a thorough  Kentuckian,  and  has  all 
the  local  pride  of  one  born  in  the  blue-grass  section  of  his 


386 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


State.  He  also  has  the  prejudice  against  being  taken  for  an 
Indianian  which  seems  inherent  in  all  native-born  Kentuckians. 
While  coming  to  Congress,  several  sessions  ago,  he  was  ap- 
proached in  the  Pullman  coach  by  a New  Yorker,  who,  after 
bowing  politely  to  him,  said : 

“Is  not  this  Senator  Blackburn  of  Indiana?” 

The  Kentuckian  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  glaring  at  his 
interlocutor  exclaimed  angrily: 

“No,  sir,  by  . The  reason  I look  so  bad  is  I have  been 

sick  !” 

“Every  time  the  baby  looks  into  my  face  he  smiles,”  said 
Mr.  Meekins. 

“Well,”  answered  his  wife,  “it  may  not  be  exactly  polite, 
but  it  shows  he  has  a sense  of  humor.” 

Mark  Twain  constantly  received  letters  and  photographs 
from  men  who  had  been  told  that  they  looked  like  him.  One 
was  from  Florida,  and  the  likeness,  as  shown  by  the  man’s 
picture,  was  really  remarkable — so  remarkable,  indeed,  that  Mr. 
Clemens  sent  the  following  acknowledgment: 

“My  Dear  Sir : I thank  you  very  much  for  your  letter  and 
the  photograph.  In  my  opinion  you  are  certainly  more  like 
me  than  any  other  of  my  doubles.  In  fact,  I am  sure  that  if 
you  stood  before  me  in  a mirrorless  frame  I could  shave  by 
you.” 

Neighbor — “Johnny,  I think  in  looks  you  favor  your  mother 
a great  deal.” 

Johnny — “Well.  1 may  look  like  her,  but  do  you  tink  dat’s 
a favor?” 

RESIGNATION 

“Then  you  don’t  think  I practice  what  I preach,  eh?”  queried 
the  minister  in  talking  with  one  of  the  deacons  at  a meeting. 

“No,  sir,  I don’t,”  replied  the  deacon  “You’ve  been  preach- 
*:n’  on  the  subject  of  resignation  for  two  years  an*  ye  haven’t 
resigned  yet.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


387 


RESPECTABILITY 

“Is  he  respectable  ?” 

“Eminently  so.  He’s  never  been  indicted  for  anything  less 
than  stealing  a railroad.”—  Wasp. 

REST  CURE 

A weather-beaten  damsel  somewhat  over  six  feet  in  height 
and  with  a pair  of  shoulders  proportionately  broad  appeared 
at  a back  door  in  Wyoming  and  asked  for  light  housework. 
She  said  that  her  name  was  Lizzie,  and  explained  that  she  had 
been  ill  with  typhoid  and  was  convalescing. 

“Where  did  you  come  from,  Lizzie?”  inquired  the  woman 
of  the  house.  “Where  have  you  been?” 

“I’ve  been  workin’  out  on  Howell’s  ranch,”  replied  Lizzie, 
“diggin’  post-holes  while  I was  gittin’  my  strength  back.” 

RETALIATION 

You  know  that  fellow,  Jim  McGroiarty,  the  lad  that’s  al- 
ways cornin’  up  and  thumpin’  ye  on  the  chest  and  yellin’,  ‘How 
are  ye?’  ” 

“I  know  him.” 

“I’ll  bet  he’s  smashed  twinty  cigars  for  me — some  of  them 
clear  Havanny — but  I’ll  get  even  with  him  now.” 

“How  will  you  do  it?” 

“I’ll  tell  ye.  Jim  always  hits  me  over  the  vest  pocket  where 
I carry  my  cigars.  He’ll  hit  me  just  once  more.  There’s  no 
cigar  in  me  vest  pocket  this  mornin’.  Instead  of  it,  there’s 
a stick  of  dynamite,  d’ye  mind !” 

Once  when  Henry  Ward  Beecher  was  in  the  midst  of  an 
eloquent  political  speech  some  wag  in  the  audience  crowed 
like  a cock.  It  was  done  to  perfection  and  the  audience  'was 
convulsed  with  laughter.  The  great  orator’s  friends  felt  uneasy 
as  to  his  reception  of  the  interruption. 

But  Mr.  Beecher  stood  perfectly  calm.  He  stopped  speak- 
ing, listened  till  the  crowing  ceased,  and  while  the  audience 
was  laughing  he  pulled  out  his  watch.  Then  he  said : “That’s 


388 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


strange.  My  watch  says  it  is  only  ten  o'clock.  But  there  can’t 
be  any  mistake  about  it.  It  must  be  morning,  for  the  instincts 
of  the  lower  animals  are  absolutely  infallible.” 

An  Episcopal  clergyman,  rector  of  a fashionable  church  in 
one  of  Boston’s  most  exclusive  suburbs,  so  as  not  to  be  bothered 
with  the  innumerable  telephone  calls  that  fall  to  one  in  his 
profession,  had  his  name  left  out  of  the  telephone  book.  A 
prominent  merchant  of  the  same  name,  living  in  the  same  sub- 
urb, was  continually  annoyed  by  requests  to  officiate  at  funer- 
als and  baptisms.  He  went  to  the  rector,  told  his  troubles  in 
a kindly  way,  and  asked  the  parson  to  have  his  name  put  in 
the  directory.  But  without  success. 

The  merchant  then  determined  to  complain  to  the  telephone 
company.  As  he  was  writing  the  letter,  one  Saturday  evening, 
the  telephone  rang  and  the  timid  voice  of  a young  man  asked 
if  the  Rev.  Mr.  Blank  would  marry  him  at  once.  A happy 
thought  came  to  the  merchant:  “No,  I’m  too  damn  busy  writing 
my  sermon,”  he  replied. 


REVOLUTIONS 

Haiti  was  in  the  midst  of  a revolution. 

As  a phase  of  it  two  armed  bodies  were  approaching  each 
other  so  that  a third  was  about  to  be  caught  between  them. 

The  commander  of  the  third  party  saw  the  predicament.  On 
the  right  government  troops,  on  the  left  insurgents. 

“General,  why  do  you  not  give  the  order  to  fire?”  asked 
an  aide,  dashing  up  on  a lame  mule. 

“I  would  like  to,”  responded  the  general,  “but,  Great  Scott ! 
I can’t  remember  which  side  we’re  fighting  for.” 


REWARDS 

Said  a great  Congregational  preacher 
To  a hen,  “You’re  a beautiful  creature.” 
And  the  hen,  just  for  that, 

Laid  an  egg  in  his  hat, 

And  thus  did  the  Hen  reward  Beecher. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


389 


RHEUMATISM 

Farmer  Barnes — “Eve  bought  a barometer,  Hannah,  to  tell 
when  it’s  going  to  rain,  ye  know/’ 

Mrs.  Barnes — “To  tell  when  it’s  goin’  to  rain!  Why,  I 
never  heard  o’  such  extravagance.  What  do  ye  s’pose  th’  Lord 
has  given  ye  tlT  rheumatis  for?” — Tit-Bits. 


ROADS 

A Yankee  just  returning  to  the  states  was  dining  with  an 
Englishman,  and  the  latter  complained  of  the  mud  in  America. 

“Yes,”  said  the  American,  “but  it’s  nothing  to  the  mud  over 
here.” 

“Nonsense!”  said  the  Englishman. 

“Fact,”  the  American  replied.  “Why,  this  afternoon  I had 
a remarkable  adventure — came  near  getting  into  trouble  with 
an  old  gentleman — all  through  your  confounded  mud.” 

“Some  of  the  streets  are  a little  greasy  at  this  season,  I 
admit,”  said  the  Englishman.  “What  was  your  adventure, 
though?” 

“Well,”  said  the  American,  “as  I was  walking  along  I noticed 
that  the  mud  was  very  thick,  and  presently  I saw  a high  hat 
afloat  on  a large  puddle  of  very  rich  ooze.  Thinking  to  do 
some  one  a kindness,  I gave  the  hat  a poke  with  my  stick, 
when  an  old  gentleman  looked  up  from  beneath,  surprised  and 
frowning.  ‘Hello!’  I said.  ‘You’re  in  pretty  deep!’  ‘Deeper 
than  you  think,’  he  said.  ‘I’m  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus !’  ” 


ROASTS 

As  William  Faversham  was  having  his  luncheon  in  a Bir- 
mingham hotel  he  was  much  annoyed  by  another  visitor,  who, 
during  the  whole  of  the  meal,  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire 
warming  himself  and  watching  Faversham  eat.  At  length,  un- 
able to  endure  it  any  longer,  Mr.  Faversham  rang  the  bell  and 
said : 

“Waiter,  kindly  turn  that  gentleman  around.  I think  he  is 
done  on  that  side.” 


390 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


ROOSEVELT,  THEODORE 


A delegation  from  Kansas  visited  Theodore  Roosevelt  at 
Oyster  Bay  some  years  ago,  while  he  was  president.  The  host 
met  them  with  coat  and  collar  off,  mopping  his  brow. 

“Ah,  gentlemen,”  he  said,  “dee-lighted  to  see  you.  Dee- 
lighted.  But  I’m  very  busy  putting  in  my  hay  just  now.  Come 
down  to  the  barn  with  me  and  we’ll  talk  things  over  while  I 
work.’* 

Down  to  the  barn  hustled  President  and  delegation. 

Mr.  Roosevelt  seized  a pitchfork  and — but  where  was  the 
hay? 

“John!”  shouted  the  President.  “John!  where’s  all  the  hay?” 

“Sorry,  sir,”  came  John’s  voice  from  the  loft,  “but  I ain’t 
had  time  to  throw  it  back  since  you  threw  it  up  for  yester- 
day’s delegation.” 


A country  school-teacher  was  cashing  her  monthly  check  at 
the  bank.  The  teller  apologized  for  the  filthy  condition  of  the 
bills,  saying,  “I  hope  you’re  not  afraid  of  microbes.” 

“Not  a bit  of  it,”  the  schoolma’am  replied.  “I’m  sure  no 
microbe  could  live  on  my  salary !” — Frances  Kirkland. 


The  quick  wit  of  a traveling  salesman  who  has  since  be- 
come a well-known  merchant  was  severely  tested  one  day.  He 
sent  in  his  card  by  the  office-boy  to  the  manager  of  a large 
concern,  whose  inner  office  was  separated  from  the  waiting- 
room  by  a ground-glass  partition.  When  the  boy  handed  his 
card  to  the  manager  the  salesman  saw  him  impatiently  tear  it 
in  half  and  throw  it  in  the  waste-basket;  the  boy  came  out  and 


SALARIES 


SALESMEN  AND  SALESMANSHIP 


Our  choice 
Your  choice 


25  cents. 

35  cents. 

—-Elgin  Burroughs. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


39i 


told  the  caller  that  he  could  not  see  the  chief.  The  salesman 
told  the  boy  to  go  back  and  get  him  his  card;  the  boy  brought 
out  five  cents,  with  the  message  that  his  card  was  torn  up.  Then 
the  salesman  took  out  another  card  and  sent  the  boy  back, 
saying:  “Tell  your  boss  I sell  two  cards  for  five  cents.” 

He  got  his  interview  and  sold  a large  bill  of  goods. 


A young  man  entered  a hat  store  and  asked  to  see  the  lat- 
est styles  in  derbies.  He  was  evidently  hard  to  please,  for  soon 
the  counter  was  covered  with  hats  that  he  had  tried  on  and 
found  wanting.  At  last  the  salesman  picked  up  a brown  derby, 
brushed  it  off  on  his  sleeve,  and  extended  it  admiringly. 

“These  are  being  very  much  worn  this  season,  sir,”  he  said. 
“Won’t  you  try  it  on?” 

The  customer  put  the  hat  on  and  surveyed  himself  critically 
in  the  mirror.  “You’re  sure  it’s  in  style?” 

“The  most  fashionable  thing  we  have  in  the  shop,  sir.  And 
it  suits  you  to  perfection — if  the  fit’s  right.” 

“Yes,  it  fits  very  well.  So  you  think  I had  better  have  it?” 

“I  don’t  think  you  could  do  better.” 

“No,  I don’t  think  I could.  So  I guess  I won’t  buy  a new 
one  after  all.” 

The  salesman  had  been  boosting  the  customer’s  old  hat, 
which  had  become  mixed  among  the  many  new  ones. 


Visitor — “Can  I see  that  motorist  who  was  brought  here  an 
hour  ago?” 

Nurse — “He  hasn’t  come  to  his  senses  yet.” 

Visitor — “Oh,  that’s  all  right.  I only  want  to  sell  him  an- 
other car.” — Judge. 


“That  fellow  is  too  slick  for  me.  Sold  me  a lot  that  was 
two  feet  under  water.  I went  around  to  demand  my  money 
back.” 

“Get  it?” 

“Get  nothing!  Then  he  sold  me  a second-hand  gasoline 
launch  and  a copy  of  *' Venetian  Life,’  by  W.  D.  Howells.” 


392 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


In  a small  South  Carolina  town  that  was  “finished”  before 
the  war,  two  men  were  playing  checkers  in  the  back  of  a store. 
A traveling  man  who  was  making  his  first  trip  to  the  town 
was  watching  the  game,  and,  not  being  acquainted  with  the 
business  methods  of  the  citizens,  he  called  the  attention  of  the 
owner  of  the  store  to  some  customers  who  had  just  entered 
the  front  door. 

“Sh ! Sh  F’answered  the  storekeeper,  making  another  move 
on  the  checkerboard.  “Keep  perfectly  quiet  and  they’ll  go 
out.” 


He  who  finds  he  has  something  to  sell, 

And  goes  and  whispers  it  down  a well, 

Is  not  so  apt  to  collar  the  dollars, 

As  he  who  climbs  a tree  and  hollers. 

— The  Advertiser 

SALOONS 

“Where  can  I get  a drink  in  this  town?”  asked  a traveling 
man  who  landed  at  a little  town  in  the  oil  region  of  Oklahoma, 
of  the  'bus  driver. 

“See  that  millinery  shop  over  there  ?”  asked  the  driver,  point- 
ing to  a building  near  the  depot. 

“You  don't  mean  to  say  they  sell  whiskey  in  a millinery 
store?”  exclaimed  the  drummer. 

“No,  I mean  that’s  the  only  place  here  they  don’t  sell  it,” 
said  the  'bus  man. 

SALVATION 

Willis — “Some  of  these  rich  fellows  seem  to  think  that 
they  can  buy  their  way  into  heaven  by  leaving  a million  dollars 
to  a church  when  they  die.” 

Gillis — “I  don’t  know  but  that  they  stand  as  much  chance 
as  some  of  these  other  rich  fellows  who  are  trying  to  get  in 
on  the  instalment  plan  of  ten  cents  a Sunday  while  they’re  liv- 
ing.”— Lauren  S.  Hamilton. 

An  Italian  noble  at  church  one  day  gave  a priest  who  begged 
for  the  souls  in  purgatory,  a piece  of  gold. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


393 


“Ah,  my  lord,”  said  the  good  father,  “ you  have  now  delivered 
a soul.” 

The  count  threw  another  piece  upon  the  plate. 

“Here  is  another  soul  delivered,”  said  the  priest. 

“Are  you  positive  of  it?”  replied  the  count. 

“Yes,  my  lord,”  replied  the  priest;  “I  am  certain  they  are 
now  in  heaven.” 

“Then,”  said  the  count,  “I’ll  take  back  my  money,  for  it 
signifies  nothing  to  you  now,  seeing  the  souls  have  already 
got  to  heaven.” 


An  Episcopal  missionary  in  Wyoming  visited  one  of  the 
outlying  districts  in  his  territory  for  the  purpose  of  conducting 
prayer  in  the  home  of  a large  family  not  conspicuous  for  its 
piety.  He  made  known  his  intentions  to  the  woman  of  the 
house,  and  she  murmured  vaguely  that  “she’d  go  out  and  see.” 
She  was  long  in  returning,  and  after  a tiresome  wait  the  mis- 
sionary went  to  the  door  and  called  with  some  impatience: 
“Aren’t  you  coming  in?  Don’t  you  care  anything  about  your 
souls?” 

“Souls?”  yelled  the  head  of  the  family  from  the  orchard. 
“We  haven’t  got  time  to  fool  with  our  souls  when  the  bees  are 
swarmin’.” 


Edith  was  light-hearted  and  merry  over  everything.  Noth- 
ing appealed  to  her  seriously.  So,  one  day,  her  mother  decided 
to  invite  a very  serious  young  parson  to  dinner,  and  he  was 
placed  next  the  light-hearted  girl.  Everything  went  well  until 
she  asked  him : 

“You  speak  of  everybody  having  a mission.  What  is 
yours?” 

“My  mission,”  said  the  parson,  “is  to  save  young  men.” 

“Good,”  replied  the  girl,  “I’m  glad  to  meet  you.  I wish 
you’d  save  one  for  me.” 


SAVING 

Take  care  of  the  pennies  and  the  dollars  will  be  blown  in 
by  your  heirs.  — Puck . 


394 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“Do  you  save  up  mopey  for  a rainy  day,  dear?” 

“Oh,  no ! I never  shop  when  it  rains.” 

Johnny — “Papa,  would  you  be  glad  if  I saved  a dollar  for 
you?” 

Papa — “Certainly,  my  son.” 

Johnny — “Well,  I saved  it  for  you,  all  right.  You  said  if  I 
brought  a first-class  report  from  my  teacher  this  week  you 
would  give  me  a dollar,  and  I didn’t  bring  it.” 

According  to  the  following  story,  economy  has  its  pains  as 
well  as  its  pleasures,  even  after  the  saving  is  done. 

One  spring,  for  some  reason,  old  Eli  was  going  round  town 
with  the  face  of  dissatisfaction,  and,  when  questioned,  poured 
forth  his  voluble  tale  of  woe  thus: 

“Marse  Geo’ge,  he  come  to  me  last  fall  an’  he  say,  ‘Eli,  dis 
gwine  ter  be  a hard  winter,  so  yo’  be  keerful,  an’  save  yo’ 
wages  fas’  an’  tight.’ 

“An’  I b’lieve  Marse  Geo’ge,  yas,  sah,  I b’lieve  him,  an’  I 
save  an’  I save,  an’  when  de  winter  come  it  ain’t  got  no  hard- 
ship, an’  dere  was  I wid  all  dat  money  jes’  frown  on  mah 
hands !” 

“Robert  dear,”  said  the  coy  little  maiden  to  her  sweetheart, 
“Pm  sure  you  love  me;  but  give  me  some  proof  of  it,  darling. 
We  can’t  marry  on  fifteen  dollars  a week,  you  know.” 

“Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?”  said  he,  with  a grieved 
air. 

“Why,  save  up  a thousand  dollars,  and  have  it  safe  in  the 
bank,  and  then  I’ll  marry  you.” 

About  two  months  later  she  cuddled  up  close  to  him  on  the 
sofa  one  evening,  and  said: 

“Robert  dear,  have  you  saved  up  that  thousand  yet?” 

“Why,  no,  my  love,”  he  replied;  “not  all  of  it.” 

“How  much  have  you  saved,  darling?” 

“Just  two  dollars  and  thirty-five  cents,  dear.” 

“Oh,  well,”  said  the  sweet  young  thing  as  she  snuggled  a 
little  closer,  “don’t  let’s  wait  any  longer,  darling.  I guess 
that’ll  do.” — R.  M.  Winans. 


See  also  Economy;  Thrift. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


395 


SCANDAL 

An  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good. 

SCHOLARSHIP 

There  is  in  Washington  an  old  “grouch  ' whose  son  was 
graduated  from  Yale.  When  the  young  man  came  home  at  the 
end  of  his  first  term,  he  exulted  in  the  fact  that  he  stood  next 
to  the  head  of  his  class.  But  the  old  gentleman  was  not  sat- 
isfied. 

“Next  to  the  head!”  he  exclaimed.  “What  do  you  mean? 
Fd  like  to  know  what  you  think  I’m  sending  you  to  college 
for?  Next  to  the  head!  Why  aren’t  you  at  the  head,  where 
you  ought  to  be?” 

At  this  the  son  was  much  crestfallen;  but  upon  his  return, 
he  went  about  his  work  with  such  ambition  that  at  the  end 
of  the  term  he  found  himself  in  the  coveted  place.  When 
he  went  home  that  year  he  felt  very  proud.  It  would  be  great 
news  for  the  old  man. 

When  the  announcement  was  made,  the  father  contemplated 
his  son  for  a few  minutes  in  silence;  then,  with  a shrug,  he 
remarked : 

“At  the  head  of  the  class,  eh?  Well,  that’s  a fine  com- 
mentary on  Yale  University!” — Howard  Morse. 

“Well,  there  were  only  three  boys  in  school  to-day  who  could 
answer  one  question  that  the  teacher  asked  us,”  said  a proud 
boy  of  eight. 

“And  I hope  my  boy  was  one  of  the  three,”  said  the  proud 
mother. 

“Well,  I was,”  answered  Young  Hopeful,  “and  Sam  Harris 
and  Harry  Stone  were  the  other  two.” 

“I  am  very  glad  you  proved  yourself  so  good  a scholar,  my 
son;  it  makes  your  mother  proud  of  you.  What  question  did 
the  teacher  ask,  Johnnie?” 

“ ‘Who  broke  the  glass  in  the  back  window  ?’  ” 

Sammy’s  mother  was  greatly  distressed  because  he  had  such 
poor  marks  in  his  school  work.  She  scolded,  coaxed,  even 


396 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


promised  him  a dime  if  he  would  do  better.  The  next  day  he 
came  running  home. 

“Oh,  mother,”  he  shouted,  “I  got  a hundred!” 

“And  what  did  you  get  a hundred  in?” 

“In  two  things,”  replied  Sammy  without  hesitation.  “I  got 
forty  in  readin’  and  sixty  in  spellin\” 

Who  ceases  to  be  a student  has  never  been  one. — George 
lies . 

See  also  College  students. 

SCHOOLS 

“Mamma,”  complained  little  Elsie,  “I  don’t  feel  very  well.” 

“That’s  too  bad,  dear,”  said  mother  sympathetically.  “Where 
do  you  feel  worst?” 

“In  school,  mamma.” 

SCIENTIFIC  MANAGEMENT 

The  late  Sylvanus  Miller,  civil  engineer,  who  was  engaged 
in  railroad  enterprise  in  Central  America,  was  seeking  local 
support  for  a road  and  attempted  to  give  the  matter  point 
He  asked  a native: 

“How  long  does  it  take  you  to  carry  your  goods  to  market 
by  muleback?” 

“Three  days,”  was  the  reply. 

“There’s  the  point,”  said  Miller.  “With  our  road  in  opera- 
tion you  could  take  your  goods  to  market  and  be  back  home 
in  one  day.” 

Very  good,  senor,”  answered  the  native.  “But  what  would 
we  do  with  the  other  two  days?” 

A visitor  from  New  York  to  the  suburbs  said  to  his  host 
during  the  afternoon : 

“By  the  way,  your  front  gate  needs  repairing.  It  was  all 
I could  do  to  get  it  open.  You  ought  to  have  it  trimmed  or 
greased  or  something.” 

“Oh,  no,”  replied  the  owner — “Oh,  no.  that’s  all  right.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


397 


“Why  is  it?”  asked  the  visitor. 

“Because,”  was  the  reply,  “every  one  who  comes  through 
that  gate  pumps  two  buckets  of  water  into  the  tank  on  the 
roof.” 

SCOTCH,  THE 

A Scotsman  is  one  who  prays  on  his  knees  on  Sunday  and 
preys  on  his  neighbors  on  week  days. 

It  being  the  southerner’s  turn,  he  told  about  a county  in 
Missouri  so  divided  in  sentiment  that  year  after  year  the  vote 
of  a single  man  prohibits  the  sale  of  liquor  there.  “And  what,” 
he  asked,  “do  you  suppose  is  the  name  of  the  chap  who  keeps 
a whole  county  dry?” 

Nobody  had  an  idea. 

“Mackintosh,  as  I’m  alive !”  declared  the  southerner. 

Everybody  laughed  except  the  Englishman.  “It’s  just  like 
a Scotsman  to  be  so  obstinate !”  he  sniffed,  and  was  much  as- 
tonished when  the  rest  of  the  party  laughed  more  than  ever. 

A Scottish  minister,  taking  his  walk  early  in  the  morning, 
found  one  of  his  parishioners  recumbent  in  a ditch. 

“Where  hae  you  been  the  nicht,  Andrew?”  asked  the  min- 
ister. 

“Weel,  I dinna  richtly  ken,”  answered  the  prostrate  one, 
“whether  it  was  a wedding  or  a funeral,  but  whichever  it  was 
it  was  a most  extraordinary  success.” 

See  also  Thrift. 

SEASICKNESS 

A Philadelphian,  on  his  way  to  Europe,  was  experiencing 
seasickness  for  the  first  time.  Calling  his  wife  to  his  bedside, 
he  said  in  a weak  voice:  “Jennie,  my  will  is  in  the  Commercial 
Trust  Company’s  care.  Everything  is  left  to  you,  dear.  My 
various  stocks  you  will  find  in  my  safe-deposit  box.”  Then 
he  said  fervently:  “And,  Jenny,  bury  me  on  the  other  side.  I 
can’t  stand  this  trip  again,  alive  or  dead.” — Joe  King. 

Motto  for  the  dining  saloon  of  an  ocean  steamship : “Man 
wants  but  little  here  below,  nor  wants  that  little  long.” 


398 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


On  the  steamer  the  little  bride  was  very  much  concerned 
about  her  husband,  who  was  troubled  with  dyspepsia. 

“My  husband  is  peculiarly  liable  to  seasickness,  Captain,” 
remarked  the  bride.  “Could  you  tell  him  what  to  do  in  case 
of  an  attack?” 

“That  won’t  be  necessary,  Madam,”  replied  the  Captain ; 
“he’ll  do  it.” 

A clergyman  who  was  holding  a children’s  service  at  a 
Continental  winter  resort  had  occasion  to  catechize  his  hear- 
ers on  the  parable  of  the  unjust  steward.  “What  is  a stew- 
ard?” he  asked. 

A little  boy  who  had  arrived  from  England  a few  days  be- 
fore held  up  his  hand.  “He  is  a man,  sir,”  he  replied,  with 
a reminiscent  look  on  his  face,  “who  brings  you  a basin.” 

“The  first  day  out  was  perfectly  lovely,”  said  the  young 
lady  just  back  from  abroad.  “The  water  was  as  smooth  as 
glass,  and  it  was  simply  gorgeous.  But  the  second  day  was 
rough  and — er — decidedly’  disgorgeous.” 

The  great  ocean  liner  rolled  and  pitched. 

“Henry,”  faltered  the  young  bride,  “do  you  still  love  me?” 

“More  than  ever,  darling!”  was  Henry’s  fervent  answer. 

Then  there  was  an  eloquent  silence. 

“Henry,”  she  gasped,  turning  her  pale,  ghastly  face  away, 
“I  thought  that  would  make  me  feel  better,  but  it  doesn’t !” 

There  was  a young  man  from  Ostend, 

Who  vowed  he’d  hold  out  to  the  end ; 

But  when  half  way  over 
From  Calais  to  Dover, 

He  did  what  he  didn’t  intend. 

SEASONS 

There  was  a young  fellow  named  Hall, 

Who  fell  in  the  spring  in  the  fall; 

’Twould  have  been  a sad  thing 
If  he’d  died  in  the  spring, 

But  he  didn’t — he  died  in  the  fall. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


399 


SENATORS 

A Senator  is  very  often  a man  who  has  risen  from  obscurity 
to  something  worse. 

“You  have  been  conspicuous  in  the  halls  of  legislation,  have 
you  not?,,  said  the  young  woman  who  asks  all  sorts  of  ques- 
tions. 

“Yes,  miss,”  answered  Senator  Sorghum,  blandly;  “I  think 
I have  participated  in  some  of  the  richest  hauls  that  legisla- 
tion ever  made.” 

An  aviator  alighted  on  a field  and  said  to  a rather  well- 
dressed  individual : “Here,  mind  my  machine  a minute,  will 
you?” 

“What?”  the  well-dressed  individual  snarled.  “Me  mind 
your  machine?  Why,  I’m  a United  States  Senator!” 

“Well,  what  of  it?”  said  the  aviator.  ‘Til  trust  you.” 

SENSE  OF  HUMOR 

“What  of  his  sense  of  humor?” 

“Well,  he  has  to  see  a joke  twice  before  he  sees  it  once.” 

— Richard  Kirk. 

“A  sense  of  humor  is  a help  and  a blessing  through  life,” 
says  Rear  Admiral  Buhler.  “But  even  a sense  of  humor  may 
exist  in  excess.  I have  in  mind  the  case  of  a British  soldier 
who  was  sentenced  to  be  flogged.  During  the  flogging  he 
laughed  continually.  The  harder  the  lash  was  laid  on,  the 
harder  the  soldier  laughed. 

“ ‘Wot’s  so  funny  about  bein’  flogged?’  demanded  the  ser- 
geant. 

“ ‘Why,’  the  soldier  chuckled,  ‘I’m  the  wrong  man.’  ” 

Mark  Twain  once  approached  a friend,  a business  man,  and 
confided  to  him  that  he  needed  the  assistance  of  a stenog- 
rapher. 

0 “I  can  send  you  one,  a fine  young  fellow,”  the  friend  said. 
“He  came  to  my  office  yesterday  in  search  of  a position,  but 

1 didn’t  have  an  opening.” 


400 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“Has  he  a sense  of  humor?”  Mark  asked  cautiously. 

“A  sense  of  humor?  He  has— in  fact,  he  got  off  one  or 
two  pretty  witty  things  himself  yesterday,”  the  friend  hastened 
to  assure  him. 

“Sorry,  but  he  won’t  do,  then,”  Mark  said. 

“Won’t  do?  Why?” 

“No,”  said  Mark.  “I  had  one  once  before  with  a sense  of 
humor,  and  it  interfered  too  much  with  the  work.  I cannot 
afford  to  pay  a man  two  dollars  a day  for  laughing.” 

The  perception  of  the  ludicrous  is  a pledge  of  sanity. — 
Emerson . 

SENTRIES 

See  Armies. 

SERMONS 

See  Preaching. 

SERVANTS 

Tommy — “Pop,  what  is  it  that  the  Bible  says  is  here  to-day 
and  gone  to-morrow?” 

Pop — “Probably  the  cook,  my  son.” 

As  usual,  they  began  discussing  the  play  after  the  theater. 
“Well,  how  did  you  like  the  piece,  my  dear?”  asked  the  fond 
husband  who  had  always  found  his  wife  a good  critic. 

“Very  much.  There’s  only  one  improbable  thing  in  it : the 
second  act  takes  place  two  years  after  the  first,  and  they  have 
the  same  servant.” 

Smith — “We  are  certainly  in  luck  with  our  new  cook — soup, 
meat,  vegetables  and  dessert,  everything  perfect !” 

Mrs.  S. — “Yes,  but  the  dessert  was  made  by  her  successor.” 

The  New  Girl — “An’  may  me  intended  visit  me  every  Sun- 
day afternoon,  ma’am?” 

Mistress — “Who  is  your  intended,  Delia?” 

The  New  Girl — “I  don’t  know  yet,  ma’am.  I’m  a stranger 
in  town.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


401 


“And  do  you  have  to  be  called  in  the  morning  ?”  asked  the 
lady  who  was  about  to  engage  a new  girl. 

“I  don’t  has  to  be,  mum,”  replied  the  applicant,  “unless  you 
happens  to  need  me.” 

A maid  dropped  and  broke  a beautiful  platter  at  a dinner 
recently.  The  host  did  not  permit  a trifle  like  this  to  ruffle  him 
in  the  least. 

“These  little  accidents  happen  ’most  every  day,”  he  said 
apologetically.  “You  see,  she  isn’t  a trained  waitress.  She  was 
a dairymaid  originally,  but  she  had  to  abandon  that  occupation 
on  account  of  her  inability  to  handle  the  cows  without  break- 
ing their  horns.” 

Young  housewives  obliged  to  practice  strict  economy  will 
sympathize  with  the  sad  experience  of  a Washington  woman. 

When  her  husband  returned  home  one  evening  he  found 
her  dissolved  in  tears,  and  careful  questioning  elicited  the 
reason  for  her  grief. 

“Dan,”  said  she,  “every  day  this  week  I have  stopped  to  look 
at  a perfect  love  of  a hat  in  Mme.  Louise’s  window.  Such  a 
hat,  Dan,  such  a beautiful  hat!  But  the  price — well,  I wanted 
it  the  worst  way,  but  just  couldn’t  afford  to  buy  it.” 

“Well,  dear,”  began  the  husband  recklessly,  “we  might  man- 
age to ” 

“Thank  you,  Dan,”  interrupted  the  wife,  “but  there  isn’t  any 
‘might’  about  it.  I paid  the  cook  this  noon,  and  what  do  you 
think?  She  marched  right  down  herself  and  bought  that  hat!” — 
Edwin  Tarrisse. 


It  is  probable  that  many  queens  of  the  kitchen  share  the 
sentiment  good-naturedly  expressed  by  a Scandinavian  servant, 
recently  taken  into  the  service  of  a young  matron  of  Chi- 
cago. 

The  youthful  assumer  of  household  cares  was  disposed  to 
be  a trifle  patronizing. 

“Now,  Lena,”  she  asked  earnestly,  “are  you  a good  cook?” 

“Ya-as,  ’m,  I tank  so,”  said  the  girl,  with  perfect  naivete, 
“if  you  vill  not  try  to  help  me.” — Elgin  Burroughs. 


402 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“Have  you  a good  cook  now?” 

“I  don’t  know.  I haven’t  been  home  since  breakfast!” 

Mrs.  Littletown — “This  magazine  looks  rather  the  worse 
for  wear.” 

Mrs.  Neartown — “Yes,  it’s  the  one  I sometimes  lend  to  the 
servant  on  Sundays.” 

Mrs.  Littletown — “Doesn’t  she  get  tired  of  always  reading 
the  same  one?” 

Mrs.  Neartown — “Oh,  no.  You  see,  it’s  the  same  book,  but 
it’s  always  a different  servant.” — Suburban  Life. 

Mrs.  Housen  Hohm — “What  is  your  name?” 

Applicant  for  Cookship — “Miss  Arlington.” 

Mrs.  Housen  Hohm — “Do  you  expect  to  be  called  Miss 
Arlington  ?” 

Applicant — “No,  ma’am;  not  if  you  have  an  alarm  clock  in 
my  room.” 

Mistress — “Nora,  I saw  a policeman  in  the  park  to-day 
kiss  a baby.  I hope  you  will  remember  my  objection  to  such 
things.” 

Nora — “Sure,  ma’am,  no  policeman  would  ever  think  iv 
kissin’  yer  baby  whin  I’m  around.” 

See  also  Gratitude;  Recommendations. 

SHOPPING 

Clerk — “Can  you  let  me  off  to-morrow  afternoon?  My 
wife  wants  me  to  go  shopping  with  her.” 

Employer — “Certainly  not.  We  are  much  too  busy.” 

Clerk — “Thank  you  very  much,  sir.  You  are  very  kind !” 

SHYNESS 

The  late  “Ian  Maclaren”  (Dr.  John  Watson)  once  told  this 
story  on  himself  to  some  friends : 

“I  was  coming  over  on  the  steamer  to  America,  when  one 
day  I went  into  the  library  to  do  some  literary  work.  I was 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


403 


very  busy  and  looked  so,  I suppose.  I had  no  sooner  started 
to  write  than  a diffident-looking  young  man  plumped  into  the 
chair  opposite  me,  began  twirling  his  cap  and  stared  at  me. 
I let  him  sit  there.  An  hour  or  more  passed,  and  he  was 
still  there,  returning  my  occasional  and  discouraging  glances 
at  him  with  a foolish,  ingratiating  smile.  I was  inclined  to 
be  annoyed.  I had  a suspicion  that  he  was  a reader  of  my 
books,  perhaps  an  admirer — or  an  autograph-hunter.  He  could 
wait.  But  at  last  he  rose,  and  still  twirling  his  cap,  he  spoke: 

“‘Excuse  me,  Doctor  Watson;  I’m  getting  deathly  sick  in 
here  and  Im  real  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  I thought  you’d 
like  to  know  that  just  as  soon  as  you  left  her  Mrs.  Watson 
fell  down  the  companionway  stairs,  and  I guess  she  hurt  herself 
pretty  badly.’  ” 

SIGNS 

When  the  late  Senator  Wolcott  first  went  to  Colorado  he 
and  his  brother  opened  a law  office  at  Idaho  Springs  under 
the  firm  name  of  “Ed.  Wolcott  & Bro.”  Later  the  partner- 
ship was  dissolved.  The  future  senator  packed  his  few  assets, 
including  the  sign  that  had  hung  outside  of  his  office,  upon 
a burro  and  started  for  Georgetown,  a mining  town  farther  up 
in  the  hills.  Upon  his  arrival  he  was  greeted  by  a crowd  of 
miners  who  critically  surveyed  him  and  his  outfit.  One  of  them, 
looking  first  at  the  sign  that  hung  over  the  pack,  then  at  Wol- 
cott, and  finally  at  the  donkey,  ventured : 

“Say,  stranger,  which  of  you  is  Ed?” 


“Buck”  Kilgore,  of  Texas,  who  once  kicked  open  the  door 
of  the  House  of  Representatives  when  Speaker  Reed  had  all 
doors  locked  to  prevent  the  minority  from  leaving  the  floor 
and  thus  escaping  a vote,  was  noted  for  his  indifference  to 
forms  and  rules.  Speaker  Reed,  annoyed  by  members  bring- 
ing lighted  cigars  upon  the  floor  of  the  House  just  before 
opening  time,  had’ signs  conspicuously  posted  as  follows:  “No 
smoking  on  the  floor  of  the  House.”  One  day  just  before 
convening  the  House  his  eagle  eye  detected  Kilgore  nonchalant- 
ly puffiing  away  at  a fat  cigar.  Calling  a page,  he  told  him  to 


404 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


give  his  compliments  to  the  gentleman  from  Texas  and  ask 
him  if  he  had  not  seen  the  signs.  After  a while  the  page 
returned  and  seated  himself  without  reporting  to  the  Speaker, 
and  Mr.  Reed  was  irritated  to  see  the  gentleman  from  Texas 
continue  his  smoke.  With  a frown  he  summoned  the  page 
and  asked : 

“Did  you  tell  the  gentleman  from  Texas  what  I said?” 

“I  did,”  replied  the  page. 

“What  did  he  say?”  asked  Reed. 

“Well — er,”  stammered  the  page,  “he  said  to  give  his  compli- 
ments to  you  and  tell  you  he  did  not  believe  in  signs.” 


SILENCE 

A conversation  with  an  Englishman. — Heine. 


Ball — “What  is  silence?” 

Hall — “The  college  yell  of  the  school  of  experience.” 


The  other  day  upon  the  links  a distinguished  clergyman 
was  playing  a closely  contested  game  of  golf.  He  carefully 
teed  up  his  ball  and  addressed  it  with  the  most  aproved  grace  ; 
he  raised  his  driver  and  hit  the  ball  a tremendous  clip,  but 
instead  of  soaring  into  the  azure  it  perversely  went  about 
twelve  feet  to  the  right  and  then  buzzed  around  in  a circle. 
The  clerical  gentleman  frowned,  scowled,  pursed  up  his  mouth 
and  bit  his  lips,  but  said  nothing,  and  a friend  who  stood  by 
him  said : “Doctor,  that  is  the  most  profane  silence  I ever 
witnessed.” 


SIN 

Man-like  is  it  to  fall  into  sin, 

Fiend-like  is  it  to  dwell  therein, 

Christ-like  is  it  for  sin  to  grieve, 

God-like  is  it  all  sin  to  leave. 

— Friedrich  von  Logan. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


405 


“Now,”  said  the  clergyman  to  the  Sunday-school  class,  “can 
any  of  you  tell  me  what  are  sins  of  omission?” 

“Yes,  sir,”  said  the  small  boy.  “They  are  the  sins  we  ought 
to  have  done  and  haven’t.” 


SINGERS 

As  the  celebrated  soprano  began  to  sing,  little  Johnnie  be- 
came greatly  exercised  over  the  gesticulations  of  the  orches- 
tra conductor. 

“What’s  that  man  shaking  his  stick  at  her  for?”  he  demanded 
indignantly. 

“Sh-h ! He’s  not  shaking  his  stick  at  her.” 

But  Johnny  was  not  convinced. 

“Then  what  in  thunder’s  she  hollering  for?” 

A visiting  clergyman  was  occupying  a pulpit  in  St.  Louis 
one  Sunday  when  it  was  the  turn  of  the  bass  to  sing  a solo, 
which  he  did  very  badly,  to  the  annoyance  of  the  preacher,  a 
lover  of  music.  When  the  singer  fell  back  in  his  seat,  red  of 
face  and  exhausted,  the  clergyman  arose,  placed  his  hands  on 
the  unopened  Bible,  deliberately  surveyed  the  faces  of  the  con- 
gregation, and  announced  the  text: 

“And  the  wind  ceased  and  there  was  a great  calm.” 

It  wasn’t  the  text  he  had  chosen,  but  it  fitted  his  sermon  as 
well  as  the  occasion. 

One  cold,  wet,  and  windy  night  he  came  upon  a negro  shiv- 
ering in  the  doorway  of  an  Atlanta  store.  Wondering  what  the 
darky  could  be  doing,  standing  on  a cold,  wet  night  in  such  a 
draughty  position,  the  proprietor  of  the  shop  said : 

“Jim,  what  are  you  doing  here?” 

“ ’Scuse  me,  sir,”  said  Jim,  “but  I’m  gwine  to  sing  bass  to- 
morrow mornin’  at  church,  an’  I am  tryin’  to  ketch  a cold.” 

— Howard  Morse. 

“The  man  who  sings  all  day  at  work  is  a happy  man.” 

“Yes,  but  how  about  the  man  who  works  and  has  to  listen 
to  him?” 


406 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Miss  Jeanette  Gilder  was  one  of  the  ardent  enthusiasts  at 
the  debut  of  Tetrazzini.  After  the  first  act  she  rushed  to  the 
back  of  the  house  to  greet  one  of  her  friends.  “Don’t  you 
think  she  is  a wonder?”  she  asked  excitedly. 

“She  is  a great  singer  unquestionably,”  responded  her  more 
phlegmatic  friend,  “but  the  registers  of  her  voice  are  not  so 
even  as,  for  instance,  Melba’s.” 

“Oh,  bother  Melba,”  said  Miss  Gilder.  “Tetrazzini  gives  in- 
finitely more  heat  from  her  registers.” 


At  a certain  Scottish  dinner  it  was  found  that  every  one 
had  contributed  to  the  evening’s  entertainment  but  a certain 
Doctor  MacDonald. 

“Come,  come,  Doctor  MacDonald,”  said  the  chairman,  “we 
cannot  let  you  escape.” 

The  doctor  protested  that  he  could  not  sing. 

“My  voice  is  altogether  unmusical,  and  resembles  the  sound 
caused  by  the  act  of  rubbing  a brick  along  the  panels  of  a 
door.” 

The  company  attributed  this  to  the  doctor’s  modesty.  Good 
singers,  he  was  reminded,  always  needed  a lot  of  pressing. 

“Very  well,”  said  the  doctor,  “if  you  can  stand  it  I will 
sing.” 

Long  before  he  had  finished  his  audience  was  uneasy. 

There  was  a painful  silence  as  the  doctor  sat  down,  broken 
at  length  by  the  voice  of  a braw  Scot  at  the  end  of  the  table. 

“Mon,”  he  exclaimed,  “your  singin’s  no  up  to  much,  but 
your  veracity’s  just  awful.  You’re  richt  aboot  that  brick.” 


She  smiles,  my  darling  smiles,  and  all 
The  world  is  filled  with  light; 

She  laughs — ’tis  like  the  bird’s  sweet  call, 
In  meadows  fair  and  bright. 

She  weeps — the  world  is  cold  and  gray, 
Rain-clouds  shut  out  the  view; 

She  sings — 1 softly  steal  away 
And  wait  till  she  gets  through. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


407 


God  sent  his  singers  upon  earth 
With  songs  of  gladness  and  of  mirth, 

That  they  might  touch  the  hearts  of  men, 

And  bring  them  back  to  heaven  again. 

— Longfellow. 


SKATING 

A young  lady  entered  a crowded  car  with  a pair  of  skates 
slung  over  her  arm.  An  elderly  gentleman  arose  to  give  her 
his  seat. 

“Thank  you  very  much,  sir,”  she  ^aid,  “but  I’ve  been  skat- 
ing all  afternoon,  and  I’m  tired  of  sitting  down.” 


SKY-SCRAPERS 

See  Buildings. 


SLEEP 

Recently  a friend  who  had  heard  that  I sometimes  suffer 
from  insomnia  told  me  of  a sure  cure.  “Eat  a pint  of  peanuts 
and  drink  two  or  three  glasses  of  milk  before  going  to  bed,” 
said  he,  “and  I’ll  warrant  you’ll  be  asleep  within  half  an  hour.” 
I did  as  he  suggested,  and  now  for  the  benefit  of  others  who 
may  be  afflicted  with  insomnia,  I feel  it  my  duty  to  report  what 
happened,  so  far  as  I am  able  to  recall  the  details. 

First,  let  me  say  my  friend  was  right.  I did  go  to  sleep  very 
soon  after  my  retirement.  Then  a friend  with  his  head  under 
his  arm  came  along  and  asked  me  if  I wanted  to  buy  his  feet. 
I was  negotiating  with  him,  when  the  dragon  on  which  I was 
riding  slipped  out  of  his  skin  and  left  me  floating  in  mid-air. 
While  I was  considering  how  I should  get  down,  a bull  with 
two  heads  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  wall  and  said  he  would 
haul  me  up  if  I would  first  climb  up  and  rig  a windlass  for 
him.  So  as  I was  sliding  down  the  mountainside  the  brake- 
man  came  in,  and  I asked  him  when  the  train  would  reach  my 
station. 


408 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“We  passed  your  station  four  hundred  years  ago,”  he  said, 
calmly  folding  the  train  up  and  slipping  it  into  his  vest  pocket. 

At  this  juncture  the  clown  bounded  into  the  ring  and  pulled 
the  center-pole  out  of  the  ground,  lifting  the  tent  and  all  the 
people  in  it  up,  up,  while  I stood  on  the  earth  below  watching 
myself  go  out  of  sight  among  the  clouds  above.  Then  I awoke, 
and  found  I had  been  asleep  almost  ten  minutes. — The  Good 
Health  Clinic. 

SMILES 

There  was  a young  lady  of  Niger, 

Who  went  for  a ride  on  a tiger; 

They  returned  from  the  ride 
With  the  lady  inside, 

And  a smile  on  the  face  of  the  tiger. 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 

SMOKING 

A woman  is  only  a woman,  but  a good  cigar  is  a smoke. 

— Rudyard  Kipling. 

Aunt  Mary — (horrified) — “Good  gracious.  Harold,  what 
would  your  mother  say  if  she  saw  you  smoking  cigarets?” 

Harold  (calmly) — “She’d  have  a fit.  They’re  her  cigarets.” 

An  Irish  soldier  on  sentry  duty  had  orders  to  allow  no  one 
to  smoke  near  his  post.  An  officer  with  a lighted  cigar  ap- 
proached whereupon  Pat  boldly  challenged  him  and  ordered 
him  to  put  it  out  at  once. 

The  officer  with  a gesture  of  disgust  threw  away  his  cigar, 
but  no  sooner  was  his  back  turned  than  Pat  picked  it  up  and 
quietly  retired  to  the  sentry  box. 

The  officer  happening  to  look  around,  observed  a beautiful 
cloud  of  smoke  issuing  from  the  box.  He  at  once  challenged 
Pat  for  smoking  on  duty. 

“Smoking,  is  it,  sor?  Bedad,  and  I’m  only  keeping  it  lit 
to  show  the  corporal  when  he  comes  as  evidence  agin  you.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


409 


SNEEZING 

While  campaigning  in  Iowa  Speaker  Cannon  was  once  in- 
veigled into  visiting  the  public  schools  of  a town  where  he 
was  billed  to  speak.  In  one  of  the  lower  grades  an  ambitious 
teacher  called  upon  a youthful  Demosthenes  to  entertain  the 
distinguished  visitor  with  an  exhibition  of  amateur  oratory. 
The  selection  attempted  was  Byron’s  “Battle  of  Waterloo,”  and 
just  as  the  boy  reached  the  end  of  the  first  paragraph  Speaker 
Cannon  gave  vent  to  a violent  sneeze.  “But,  hush ! hark !” 
declaimed  the  youngster;  “a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a rising 
knell!  Did  ye  not  hear  it?” 

The  visitors  smiled  and  a moment  later  the  second  sneeze — 
which  the  Speaker  was  vainly  trying  to  hold  back — came  with 
increased  violence. 

“But,  hark!”  bawled  the  boy,  “that  heavy  sound  breaks  in 
once  more,  and  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before ! Arm ! 
arm ! it  is — it  is — the  cannon’s  opening  roar !” 

This  was  too  much,  and  the  laugh  that  broke  from  the  party 
swelled  to  a roar  when  “Uncle  Joe”  chuckled:  “Put  up  your 
weapons,  children;  I won’t  shoot  any  more.” 

SNOBBERY 

Snobbery  is  the  pride  of  those  who  are  not  sure  of  their 
position. 


SNORING 

Snore — An  unfavorable  report  from  headquarters. — Foolish 
Dictionary. 


SOCIALISTS 

Among  the  stories  told  of  the  late  Baron  de  Rothschild  is 
one  which  details  how  a “change  of  heart”  once  came  to  his  valet 
— an  excellent  fellow,  albeit  a violent  “red.” 

Alphonse  was  as  good  a servant  as  one  would  wish  to  em- 
ploy, and  as  his  socialism  never  got  farther  than  attending  a 
weekly  meeting,  the  baron  never  objected  to  his  political  faith. 
After  a few  months  of  these  permissions  to  absent  himself  from 


4io 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


duty,  his  employer  noticed  one  week  that  he  did  not  ask  to 
go.  The  baron  thought  Alphonse  might  have  forgotten  the 
night,  but  when  the  next  week  he  stayed  at  home,  he  inquired 
what  was  up. 

“Sir,”  said  the  valet,  with  the  utmost  dignity,  “some  of  my 
former  colleagues  have  worked  out  a calculation  that  if  all  the 
wealth  in  France  were  divided  equally  per  capita,  each  indi- 
vidual would  be  the  possessor  of  two  thousand  francs.” 

Then  he  stopped  as  if  that  told  the  whole  story,  so  said  the 
baron,  “What  of  that?” 

“Sir/’  came  back  from  the  enlightened  Alphonse,  “I  haye 
five  thousand  francs  now.” — Warwick  James  Price . 

SOCIETY 

Smart  Society  is  made  up  of  the  worldly,  the  fleshy,  and  the 
devilish. — Harold  Melbourne . 

“What  are  her  days  at  home?” 

“Oh,  a society  leader  has  no  days  at  home  anymore.  Now- 
adays she  has  her  telephone  hours.” 

Society  consists  of  two  classes,  the  upper  and  the  lower.  The 
latter  cultivates  the  dignity  of  labor,  the  former  the  labor  of 
dignity. — Punch. 

There  was  a young  person  called  Smarty, 

Who  sent  out  his  cards  for  a party; 

So  exclusive  and  few 
Were  the  friends  that  he  knew 
That  no  one  was  present  but  Smarty. 

SOLECISMS 

A New  York  firm  recently  hung  the  following  sign  at  the 
entrance  of  a large  building:  “Wanted:  Sixty  girls  to  sew 
buttons  on  the  sixth  floor.” 

Reporters  are  obliged  to  write  their  descriptions  of  accidents 
hastily  and  often  from  meager  data,  and  in  the  attempt  to 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


411 

make  them  vivid  they  sometimes  make  them  ridiculous ; for 
example,  a New  York  City  paper  a few  days  ago,  in  describ- 
ing a collision  between  a train  and  a motor  bus,  said:  “The 
train,  too,  was  filled  with  passengers.  Their  shrieks  mingled 
with  the  cries  of  the  dead  and  the  dying  of  the  bus !” 

SONS 

“I  thought  your  father  looked  very  handsome  with  his  gray 
hairs.” 

“Yes,  dear  old  chap.  I gave  him  those.” 

SOUVENIRS 

“A  friend  of  mine,  traveling  in  Ireland,  stopped  for  a drink 
of  milk  at  a white  cottage  with  a thatched  roof,  and,  as  he 
sipped  his  refreshment,  he  noted,  on  a center  table  under  a 
glass  dome,  a brick  with  a faded  rose  upon  the  top  of  it. 

“ ‘Why  do  you  cherish  in  this  way,’  my  friend  said  to  his 
host,  ‘that  common  brick  and  that  dead  rose?’ 

“ ‘Shure,  sir,’  was  the  reply,  ‘there’s  certain  memories  at- 
tachin’  to  them.  Do  ye  see  this  big  dent  in  my  head?  Well,  it 
was  made  by  that  brick.’ 

“‘But  the  rose?’  said  my  friend. 

“His  host  smiled  quietly. 

“ ‘The  rose,’  he  explained,  ‘is  off  the  grave  of  the  man  that 
threw  the  brick.’  ” 


SPECULATION 

There  are  two  times  in  a man’s  life  when  he  should  not 
speculate : when  he  can’t  afford  it,  and  when  he  can. — Mark 
Twain. 


SPEED 

“I  always  said  old  Cornelius  Husk  was  slow,”  said  one 
Quag  man  to  another. 

“Why,  what’s  he  been  doin’  now?”  the  other  asked. 

“Got  himself  run  over  by  a hearse !” 


412 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


“So  you  heard  the  bullet  whiz  past  you?”  asked  the  lawyer 
of  the  darky. 

“Yes,  sah,  heard  it  twict.” 

“How’s  that?” 

“Heard  it  whiz  when  it  passed  me,  and  heard  it  again  when 
I passed  it.” 


A near  race  riot  happened  in  a southern  town.  The  negroes 
gathered  in  one  crowd  and  the  whites  in  another.  The  whites 
fired  their  revolvers  into  the  air,  and  the  negroes  took  to  their 
heels.  Next  day  a plantation  owner  said  to  one  of  his  men: 
“Sam,  were  you  in  that  crowd  that  gathered  last  night?” 
“Yassir.”  “Did  you  run  like  the  wind,  Sam?”  “No,  sir.  I 
didn’t  run  like  the  wind,  ’deed  I didn’t.  But  I passed  two 
niggers  that  was  running  like  the  wind.” 


A guest  in  a Cincinnati  hotel  was  shot  and  killed.  The 
negro  porter  who  heard  the  shooting  was  a witness  at  the  trial. 
“How  many  shots  did  you  hear?”  asked  the  lawyer. 

“Two  shots,  sah,”  he  replied. 

“How  far  apart  were  they?” 

“’Bout  like  dis  way,”  explained  the  negro,  clapping  his  hands 
with  an  interval  of  about  a second  between  claps. 

“Where  were  you  when  the  first  shot  was  fired?” 

“Shinin’  a gemman’s  shoe  in  the  basement  of  de  hotel.” 
“Where  were  you  when  the  second  shot  was  fired?” 

“Ah  was  passin’  de  Big  Fo’  depot.” 


SPINSTERS 

“Is  there  anyone  present  who  wishes  the  prayers  of  the 
congregation  for  a relative  or  friend?”  asks  the  minister. 

“I  do,”  says  the  angular  lady  arising  from  the  rear  pew.  “I 
want  the  congregation  to  pray  for  my  husband.” 

“Why,  sister  Abigail !”  replies  the  minister.  “You  have  no 
husband  as  yet.” 

“Yes,  but  I want  you  all  to  pitch  in  an’  pray  for  one  for 
me !” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


4i3 


Some  time  ago  the  wife  of  an  assisstant  state  officer  gave 
a party  to  a lot  of  old  maids  of  her  town.  She  asked  each  one 
to  bring  a photograph  of  the  man  who  had  tried  to  woo  and 
wed  her.  Each  of  the  old  maids  brought  a photograph  and 
they  were  all  pictures  of  the  same  man,  the  hostess’s  husband. 


Maude  Adams  was  one  day  discussing  with  her  old  negro 
“mammy”  the  approaching  marriage  of  a friend. 

“When  is  you  gwine  to  git  married,  Miss  Maudie?”  asked 
the  mammy,  who  took  a deep  interest  in  her  talented  young 
mistress. 

“I  don’t  know,  mammy,”  answered  the  star.  “I  don’t  think 
I’ll  ever  get  married.” 

“Well,”  sighed  mammy,  in  an  attempt  to  be  philosophical, 
“they  do  say  ole  maids  is  the  happies’  kind  after  they  quits 
strugglin’.” 


Here’s  to  the  Bachelor,  so  lonely  and  gay, 

For  it’s  not  his  fault,  he  was  born  that  way; 

And  here’s  to  the  Spinster,  so  lonely  and  good; 

For  it’s  not  her  fault,  she  hath  done  what  she  could. 


An  old  maid  on  the  wintry  side  of  fifty,  hearing  of  the 
marriage  of  a pretty  young  lady,  her  friend,  observed  with  a 
deep  and  sentimental  sigh:  “Well,  I suppose  it  is  what  we  must 
all  come  to.” 


A famous  spinster,  known  throughout  the  country  for  her 
charities,  was  entertaining  a number  of  little  girls  from  a 
charitable  institution.  After  the  luncheon,  the  children  were 
shown  through  the  place,  in  order  that  they  might  enjoy  the 
many  beautiful  things  it  contained. 

“This,”  said  the  spinster,  indicating  a statue,  “is  Minerva.” 
“Was  Minerva  married?”  asked  one  of  the  little  girls. 

“No,  my  child,”  said  the  spinster,  with  a smile;  “Minerva 
was  the  Goddess  of  Wisdom.” — E.  T. 


414 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


There  once  was  a lonesome,  lorn  spinster, 
And  luck  had  for  years  been  ag’inst  her; 
When  a man  came  to  burgle 
She  shrieked,  with  a gurgle, 

“Stop  thief,  while  I call  in  a min’ster!” 


SPITE 

Think  twice  before  you  speak,  and  then  you  may  be  able 
to  say  something  more  aggraviting  than  if  you  spoke  right  out 
at  once. 


A man  had  for  years  employed  a steady  German  workman. 
One  day  Jake  came  to  him  and  asked  to  be  excused  from  work 
the  next  day. 

“Certainly,  Jake,”  beamed  the  employer.  “What  are  you 
going  to  do?” 

“Vail,”  said  Jake  slowly.  T tink  I must  go  by  mein  wife’s 
funeral.  She  dies  yesterday.” 

After  the  lapse  of  a few  weeks  Jake  again  approached  his 
boss  for  a day  off. 

“All  right,  Jake,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  this  time?” 

“Aber,”  said  Jake,  “I  go  to  make  me,  mit  mein  fraulein,  a 
wedding.” 

“What?  So  soon?  Why,  it’s  only  been  three  weeks  since 
you  buried  your  wife.” 

“Ach !”  replied  Jake,  “I  don’t  hold  spite  long.” 


SPRING 

In  the  spring  the  housemaid’s  fancy 
Lightly  turns  from  pot  and  pan 
To  the  greater  necromancy 
Of  a young  unmarried  man. 

You  can  hold  her  through  the  winter, 
And  she’ll  work  around  and  sing, 
But  it’s  just  as  good  as  certain 
She  will  marry  in  the  spring. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


4i5 


It  is  easy  enough  to  look  pleasant, 

When  the  spring  comes  along  with  a rush ; 

But  the  fellow  worth-while 
Is  the  one  who  can  smile 
When  he  slips  and  sits  down  in  the  slush. 

— Leslie  Van  Every. 

STAMMERING 

One  of  the  ushers  approached  a man  who  appeared  to  be 
annoying  those  about  him. 

“Don't  you  like  the  show?” 

“Yes,  indeed!” 

“Then  why  do  you  persist  in  hissing  the  performers?” 

“Why,  m-man  alive,  I w-was-n’t  h-hissing!  I w-was  s-s-im- 
ply  s-s-s-saying  to  S-s-s-sammie  that  the  s-s-s-singing  is 
s-s-s-superb.” 

A man  who  stuttered  badly  went  to  a specialist  and  after 
ten  difficult  lessons  learned  to  say  quite  distinctly,  “Peter  Pi- 
per picked  a peck  of  pickled  peppers.”  His  friends  congratu- 
lated him  upon  this  splendid  achievement. 

“Yes,”  said  the  man  doubtfully,  “but  it's  s-s-such  a d-d-deuc- 
edly  d-d-d-difficult  rem-mark  to  w-w-work  into  an  ordin-n-nary 
c-c-convers-s-sa-tion,  y'  know.” 

STATESMEN 

A statesman  is  a deal  politician. — Mr.  Dooley. 

A statesman  is  a man  who  finds  out  which  way  the  crowd 
is  going,  then  jumps  in  front  and  yells  like  blazes. 

STATISTICS 

An  earnest  preacher  in  Georgia,  who  has  a custom  of  tell- 
ing the  Lord  all  the  news  in  his  prayers,  recently  began  a 
petition  for  help  against  the  progress  of  wickedness  in  his 
town,  with  the  statement: 

“Oh,  Thou  great  Jehovah,  crime  is  on  the  increase.  It  is 
becoming  more  prevalent  daily.  I can  prove  it  to  you  by 
statistics.” 


416 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Patient— “Tell  me  candidly,  Doc,  do  you  think  I'll  pull 
through  ?” 

Doctor — “Oh,  you’re  bound  to  get  well — you  can’t  help  your- 
self. The  Medical  Record  shows  that  out  of  one  hundred  cases 
like  yours,  one  per  cent  invariably  recovers.  I’ve  treated  ninety- 
nine  cases,  and  every  one  of  them  died.  Why,  man  alive,  you 
can’t  die  if  you  try!  There’s  no  humbug  in  statistics.” 


STEAK 

“Can  I get  a steak  here  and  catch  the  one  o’clock  train?” 

“It  depends  on  your  teeth,  sir.” 

STEAM 

“Can  you  tell  what  steam  is?”  asked  the  examiner. 

“Why,  sure,  sir,”  replied  Patrick  confidently.  “Steam  is — 
Why — er — it’s  wather  thos’s  gone  crazy  wid  the  heat.” 

STEAMSHIPS  AND  STEAMBOATS 

“That  new  steamer  they’re  building  is  a whopper,”  says  the 
man  with  the  shoe-button  nose. 

“Yes,”  agrees  the  man  with  the  recalcitrant  hair,  “but  my 
uncle  is  going  to  build  one  so  long  that  when  a passenger  gets 
seasick  in  one  end  of  it  he  can  go  to  the  other  end  and  be 
clear  away  from  the  storm.” 

STENOGRAPHERS 

A beautiful  statuesque  blond  had  left  New  York  to  act  as 
stenographer  to  a dignified  Philadelphian  of  Quaker  descent. 
On  the  morning  of  her  first  appearance  she  went  straight  to 
the  desk  of  her  employer. 

“I  presume,”  she  remarked,  “that  you  begin  the  day  over 
here  the  same  as  they  do  in  New  York?” 

“Oh,  yes,”  replied  the  employer,  without  glancing  up  from 
a letter  he  was  reading. 

“Well,  hurry  up  and  kiss  me,  then,”  was  the  startling  re- 
joinder, “I  want  to  get  to  work.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK  417 

STOCK  BROKERS 

A grain  broker  in  New  Boston,  Maine, 

Said,  “That  market  gives  me  a pain; 

I can  hardly  bear  it, 

To  bull — I don’t  dare  it, 

For  it’s  going  against  the  grain.” 

— Minnesota  Minne-Ha-Ha. 


STRATEGY 

A bird  dog  belonging  to  a man  in  Mulvane  disappeared 
last  week.  The  owner  put  this  “ad”  in  the  paper  and  insisted 
that  it  be  printed  exactly  as  he  wrote  it : 

LOST  OR  RUN  AWAY — One  livver  culered  burd  dog 
called  Jim.  Will  show  signs  of  hyderfobby  in  about  three  days. 

The  dog  came  home  the  following  day. 


“Boy,  take  these  flowers  to  Miss  Bertie  Bohoo,  Room  12.” 
“My,  sir,  you’re  the  fourth  gentleman  wot’s  sent  her  flowers 
to-day.” 

“What’s  that?  What  the  deuce?  W-who  sent  the  others?” 
“Oh,  they  didn’t  send  any  names.  They  all  said,  ‘She’ll 
know  where  they  come  from.’  ” 

“Well,  here,  take  my  card,  and  tell  her  these  are  from  the 
same  one  who  sent  the  other  three  boxes.” 


The  little  girl  was  having  a great  deal  of  trouble  pronounc- 
ing some  of  the  words  she  met  with.  “Vinegar”  had  given 
her  the  most  trouble,  and  she  was  duly  grieved  to  know  that 
the  village  was  being  entertained  by  her  efforts  in  this  direc- 
tion. 

She  was  sent  one  day  to  the  store  with  the  vinegar- jug, 
to  get  it  filled,  and  had  no  intention  of  amusing  the  people 
who  were  gathered  in  the  store.  So  she  handed  the  jug  to 
the  clerk  with : 

“Smell  the  mouth  of  it  and  give  me  a quart.” 


4i8 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A young  couple  had  been  courting  for  several  years,  and  the 
young  man  seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry  to  marry.  Finally,  one 
day,  he  said: 

“Sail,  I canna  marry  thee.,, 

“How’s  that?”  asked  she. 

“I’ve  changed  my  mind,”  said  he. 

“Well,  I’ll  tell  thee  what  we’ll  do,”  said  she.  “If  folks  know 
that  it’s  thee  as  has  given  me  up  I shanna  be  able  to  get  an- 
other chap;  but  if  they  think  I’ve  given  thee  up  then  I can 
get  all  I want.  So  we’ll  have  banns  published  and  when  the 
wedding  day  comes  the  parson  will  say  to  thee,  ‘Wilt  thou 
have  this  woman  to  be  thy  wedded  wife?’  and  thou  must  say, 
‘I  will.’  And  when  he  says  to  me,  ‘Wilt  thou  have  this  man 
to  be  thy  wedded  husband  ?’  I shall  say,  ‘I  winna.’  ” 

The  day  came,  and  when  the  minister  asked  the  important 
question  the  man  answered : 

“I  will.” 

Then  the  parson  said  to  the  woman : 

“Wilt  thou  have  this  man  to  be  thy  wedded  husband?”  and 
she  said : 

“I  will.” 

“Why,”  said  the  young  man  furiously,  “you  said  you  would 
say  ‘I  winna.’  ” 

“I  know  that,”  said  the  young  woman,  “but  I’ve  changed 
my  mind  since.” 


Charles  Stuart,  formerly  senator  from  Michigan,  was  travel- 
ing by  stage  through  his  own  state.  The  weather  was  bitter 
cold,  the  snow  deep,  and  the  roads  practically  unbroken.  The 
stage  was  nearly  an  hour  late  at  the  dinner  station  and  every- 
body was  cross  and  hungry. 

In  spite  of  the  warning,  “Ten  minutes  only  for  refresh- 
ments,” Senator  Stuart  sat  down  to  dinner  with  his  usual  de- 
liberation. When  he  had  finished  his  first  cup  of  coffee  the 
other  passengers  were  leaving  the  table.  By  the  time  his  sec- 
ond cup  arrived  the  stage  was  at  the  door.  “All  aboard !” 
shouted  the  driver.  The  senator  lingered  and  called  for  a 
third  cup  of  coffee. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


419 


While  the  household,  as  was  the  custom,  assembled  at  the 
door  to  see  the  stage  off,  the  senator  calmly  continued  his  meal. 
Suddenly,  just  as  the  stage  was  starting,  he  pounded  violently 
on  the  dining-room  table.  The  landlord  hurried  in.  The  sena- 
tor wanted  a dish  of  rice-pudding.  When  it  came  he  called 
for  a spoon.  There  wasn’t  a spoon  to  be  found. 

“That  shock-headed  fellow  took  ’em !”  exclaimed  the  land- 
lady. “I  knew  him  for  a thief  the  minute  I laid  eyes  on  him.” 

The  landlord  jumped  to  the  same  conclusion. 

“Hustle  after  that  stage !”  he  shouted  to  the  sheriff,  who 
was  untying  his  horse  from  the  rail  in  front  of  the  tavern. 
“Bring  ’em  all  back.  They’ve  taken  the  silver !” 

A few  minutes  later  the  stage,  in  charge  of  the  sheriff, 
swung  around  in  front  of  the  house.  The  driver  was  in  a 
fury. 

“Search  them  passengers !”  insisted  the  landlord. 

But  before  the  officer  could  move,  the  senator  opened  the 
stage  door,  stepped  inside,  then  leaned  out,  touched  the  sher- 
iff’s arm  and  whispered : 

‘Tell  the  landlord  he’ll  find  his  spoons  in  the  coffee-pot.” 


SUBWAYS 

Any  one  who  has  ever  traveled  on  the  New  York  subway 
in  rush  hours  can  easily  appreciate  the  following: 

A little  man,  wedged  into  the  middle  of  a car,  suddenly 
thought  of  pickpockets,  and  quite  as  suddenly  remembered 
that  he  had  some  money  in  his  overcoat.  He  plunged  his 
hand  into  his  pocket  and  was  somewhat  shocked  upon  encoun- 
tering the  fist  of  a fat  fellow-passenger. 

“Aha !”  snorted  the  latter.  “I  caught  you  that  time !” 

“Leggo !”  snarled  the  little  man.  “Leggo  my  hand !” 

“Pickpocket !”  hissed  the  fat  man. 

“Scoundrel !”  retorted  the  little  one. 

Just  then  a tall  man  in  their  vicinity  glanced  up  from  his 
paper. 

“I’d  like  to  get  off  here,”  he  drawled,  “if  you  fellows  don’t 
mind  taking  your  hands  out  of  my  pocket.” 


420 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


SUCCESS 

Nothing  succeeds  like  excess. — Life. 

Nothing  succeeds  like  looking  successful. — Henriette  Cork- 
land. 


Success  in  life  often  consists  in  knowing  just  when  to  dis- 
agree with  one’s  employer. 

A New  Orleans  lawyer  was  asked  to  address  the  boys  of  a 
business  school.  He  commenced  : 

“My  young  friends,  as  I approached  the  entrance  to  this 
room  I noticed  on  the  panel  of  the  door  a word  eminently 
appropriate  to  an  institution  of  this  kind.  It  expresses  the  one 
thing  most  useful  to  the  average  man  when  he  steps  into  the 
arena  of  life.  It  was ” 

“Pull,”  shouted  the  boys,  in  a roar  of  laughter,  and  the 
lawyer  felt  that  he  had  taken  his  text  from  the  wrong  side 
of  the  door. 


I’d  rather  be  a Could  Be 
If  I could  not  be  an  Are; 

For  a Could  Be  is  a May  Be, 

With  a chance  of  touching  par. 

I’d  rather  be  a Has  Been 
Than  a Might  Have  Been,  by  far; 

For  a Might  Have  Been  has  never  been, 

But  a Has  was  once  an  Are. 

’Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success, 

But  we’ll  do  more,  Sempronius, — 

We’ll  deserve  it. 

— Addison. 

There  are  two  ways  of  rising  in  the  world : either  by  one’s 
own  industry  or  profiting  by  the  foolishness  of  others. — La 
Bruy  ere. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


421 


Success  is  counted  sweetest 
By  those  who  ne’er  succeed. 

— Emily  Dickinson. 


See  also  Making  good. 

SUFFRAGETTES 

When  a married  woman  goes  out  to  look  ofter  her  rights, 
her  husband  is  usually  left  at  home  to  look  after  his  wrongs. 

— Child  Harold. 


“’Ullo,  Bill,  ’ow’s  things  with  yer?” 

“Lookin’  up,  Tom,  lookin’  up.” 

“’Igh  cost  o’  livin’  not  ’ittin’  yer,  Bill?” 

“Not  so  ’ard,  Tom — not  so  ’ard.  The  missus  ’as  went 
’orf  on  a hunger  stroike  and  me  butcher’s  bills  is  cut  in  arf !” 

I’d  hate  t’  be  married  t’  a suffragette  an’  have  t’  eat  Battle 
Creek  breakfasts. — Abe  Martin. 

First  Englishman — “Why  do  you  allow  your  wife  to  be  a 
militant  suffragette?” 

Second  Englishman — “When  she’s  busy  wrecking  things 
outside  we  have  comparative  peace  at  home.” — Life. 

Recipe  for  a suffragette: 

To  the  power  that  already  lies  in  her  hands 
You  add  equal  rights  with  the  gents; 

You’ll  find  votes  that  used  to  bring  two  or  three  plunks, 
Marked  down  to  ninety-eight  cents. 

When  Mrs.  Pankhurst,  the  English  suffragette,  was  in  Amer- 
ica she  met  and  became  very  much  attached  to  Mrs.  Lee  Pres- 
ton, a New  York  woman  of  singular  cleverness  of  mind  and 
personal  attraction.  After  the  acquaintance  had  ripened  some- 
what Mrs.  Pankhurst  ventured  to  say: 

“I  do  hope,  Mrs.  Preston,  that  you  are  a suffragette.” 

“Oh,  dear  no!”  replied  Mrs.  Preston;  “you  know,  Mrs. 
Pankhurst,  I am  happily  married.” 


422 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Bill — “Jake  said  he  was  going  to  break  up  the  suffragette 
meeting  the  other  night.  Were  his  plans  carried  out?” 

Dill — “No,  Jake  was.” — Life. 

Slasher — “Been  in  a fight?” 

Masher — “No.  I tried  to  flirt  with  a pretty  suffragette.” 

— Judge. 

“What  sort  of  a ticket  does  your  suffragette  club  favor?” 

“Well,”  replied  young  Mrs.  Torkins,  “if  we  owned  right  up, 
I think  most  of  us  would  prefer  matinee  tickets.” 

See  also  Woman  suffrage. 

SUICIDE 

The  Chinese  Consul  at  San  Francisco,  at  a recent  dinner, 
discussed  his  country’s  customs. 

“There  is  one  custom,”  said  a young  girl,  “that  I can’t 
understand — and  that  is  the  Chinese  custom  of  committing 
suicide  by  eating  gold-leaf.  I can’t  understand  how  gold-leaf 
can  kill.” 

“The  partaker,  no  doubt,”  smiled  the  Consul,  “succumbs 
from  a consciousness  of  inward  gilt.” 

SUMMER  RESORTS 

Gabe — “What  are  you  going  back  to  that  place  for  this  sum- 
mer? Why,  last  year  it  was  all  mosquitoes  and  no  fishing.” 

Steve — “The  owner  tells  me  that  he  has  crossed  the  mos- 
quitoes with  the  fish,  and  guarantees  a bite  every  second.” 

“I  suppose,”  said  the  city  man,  “there  are  some  queer  char- 
acters around  an  old  village  like  this.” 

“You’ll  find  a good  many,”  admitted  the  native,  “when  the 
hotels  fill  up.” 

SUNDAY 

Albert  was  a solemn-eyed,  spiritual-looking  child. 

“Nurse,”  he  said  one  day,  leaving  his  blocks  and  laying  his 
hand  on  her  knee,  “nurse,  is  this  God’s  day?” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


423 


“No,  dear,”  said  the  nurse,  “this  is  not  Sunday;  it  is  Thurs- 
day.” _ 

“I’m  so  sorry,”  he  said,  sadly,  and  went  back  to  his  blocks. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  in  his  serious  manner  he  asked 
the  same  question,  and  the  nurse  tearfully  said  to  the  cook: 

“That  child  is  too  go  d for  this  world.” 

On  Sunday  the  question  was  repeated,  and  the  nurse,  with 
a sob  in  her  voice,  said:  “Yes,  lambie,  this  is  God’s  day.” 

“Then  where  is  the  funny  paper?”  he  demanded. 

Teacher — “Good  little  boys  do  not  skate  on  Sunday,  Corky. 
Don’t  you  think  that  is  very  nice  of  them?” 

Corky — “Sure  t’ing!” 

Teacher — “And  why  is  it  nice  of  them,  Corky?” 

Corky — “Aw,  it  leaves  more  room  on  de  ice!  See?” 

Of  all  the  days  that’s  in  the  week, 

I dearly  love  but  one  day, 

And  that’s  the  day  that  comes  betwixt 
A Saturday  and  Monday. 

— Henry  Carey. 

O day  of  rest!  How  beautiful,  how  fair, 

How  welcome  to  the  weary  and  the  old! 

Day  of  the  Lord!  and  truce  to  earthly  care! 

Day  of  the  Lord,  as  all  our  days  should  be! 

— Longfellow. 

SUNDAY  SCHOOLS 

“Now,  Willie,”  said  the  superintendent’s  little  boy,  addres- 
sing the  blacksmith’s  little  boy,  who  had  come  over  for  a 
frolic,  “we’ll  play  ‘Sabbath  School.’  You  give  me  a nickel 
every  Sunday  for  six  months,  and  then  at  Christmas  I’ll  give 
you  a ten-cent  bag  of  candy.” 

When  Lottie  returned  from  her  first  visit  to  Sunday-school, 
she  was  asked  what  she  had  learned. 

“God  made  the  world  in  six  days  and  was  arrested  on  the 
seventh  day,”  was  her  version  of  the  lesson  imparted. 


424 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


The  teacher  asked:  “When  did  Moses  live?” 

After  the  silence  had  become  painful  she  ordered:  “Open 
your  Old  Testaments.  What  does  it  say  there?” 

A boy  answered : “Moses,  4000.” 

“Now,”  said  the  teacher,  “why  didn’t  you  know  when  Mos- 
es lived?” 

“Well,”  replied  the  boy,  “I  thought  it  was  his  telephone 
number.” — Suburban  Life. 


“How  many  of  you  boys,”  asked  the  Sunday-school  su- 
perintendent, “can  bring  two  other  boys  next  Sunday?” 

There  was  no  response  until  a new  recruit  raised  his  hand 
hesitatingly. 

“Well,  William?” 

“I  can’t  bring  two,  but  there’s  one  little  feller  I can  lick, 
and  I’ll  do  my  damnedest  to  bring  him.” 


SUPERSTITION 

Superstition  is  a premature  explanation  overstaying  its  time. 
— George  lies. 

SURPRISE 

“Where  are  you  goin’,  ma?”  asked  the  youngest  of  five 
children. 

“I’m  going  to  a surprise  party,  my  dear,”  answered  the 
mother. 

“Are  we  all  goin’,  too?” 

“No,  dear.  You  weren’t  invited.” 

After  a few  moments’  deep  thought: 

“Say,  ma,  then  don’t  you  think  they’d  be  lots  more  sur- 
prised if  you  did  take  us  all?” 


SWIMMERS 

Two  negro  roustabouts  at  New  Orleans  were  continually 
bragging  about  their  ability  as  long  distance  swimmers  and  a 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


425 


steamboat  man  got  up  a match.  The  man  who  swam  the 
longest  distance  was  to  receive  $5.  The  Alabama  Whale  im- 
mediately stripped  on  the  dock,  but  the  Human  Steamboat  said 
he  had  some  business  and  would  return  in  a few  minutes.  The 
Whale  swam  the  river  four  or  five  times  for  exercise  and  by 
that  time  the  Human  Steamboat  returned.  He  wore  a pair 
of  swimming  trunks  and  had  a sheet  iron  cook  stove  strapped 
on  his  back.  Tied  around  his  neck  were  a dozen  packages  con- 
taining bread,  flour,  bacon  and  other  eatables.  The  Whale 
gazed  at  his  opponent  in  amazement. 

“Whar  yo’  vittles?”  demanded  the  Human  Steamboat. 

“Vittles  fo’  what?”  asked  the  Whale. 

“Don’t  yo’  ask  me  fo’  nothin’  on  the  way  ovah,”  warned 
the  Steamboat.  “Mah  fust  stop  is  New  York  an’  mah  next 
stop  is  London.” 


SYMPATHY 

A sympathizer  is  a fellow  that’s  for  you  as  long  as  it  don’t 
cost  anything. 

Dwight  L.  Moody  was  riding  in  a car  one  day  when  it  was 
hailed  by  a man  much  the  worse  for  liquor,  who  presently 
staggered  along  the  car  between  two  rows  of  well-dressed 
people,  regardless  of  tender  feet. 

Murmurs  and  complaints  arose  on  all  sides  and  demands 
were  heard  that  the  offender  should  be  ejected  at  once. 

But  amid  the  storm  of  abuse  one  friendly  voice  was  raised. 
Mr.  Moody  rose  from  his  seat,  saying: 

“No,  no,  friends!  Let  the  man  sit  down  and  be  quiet.” 

The  drunken  one  turned,  and,  seizing  the  famous  evangelist 
by  the  hand,  exclaimed: 

“Thank  ye,  sir — thank  ye ! I see  you  know  what  it  is  to 
be  drunk.” 

The  man  rushed  excitedly  into  the  smoking  car.  “A  lady 
has  fainted  in  the  next  car!  Has  anybody  got  any  whiskey?” 
he  asked. 

Instantly  a half-dozen  flasks  were  thrust  out  to  him.  Taking 
the  nearest  one,  he  turned  the  bottle  up  and  took  a big  drink, 


426 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


then,  handing  the  flask  back,  said,  “Thank  you.  It  always  did 
make  me  feel  sick  to  see  a lady  faint.” 

A tramp  went  to  a farmhouse,  and  sitting  down  in  the  front 
yard  began  to  eat  the  grass. 

The  housewife’s  heart  went  out  to  him:  “Poor  man,  you 
must  indeed  be  hungry.  Come  around  to  the  back.” 

The  tramp  beamed  and  winked  at  the  hired  man. 

“There,”  said  the  housewife,  when  the  tramp  hove  in  sight, 
pointing  to  a circle  of  green  grass,  “try  that:  you  will  find  that 
grass  so  much  longer.” 


Strengthen  me  by  sympathizing  with  my  strength,  not  my 
weakness. — Amos  Bronson  Alcott. 


SYNONYMS 

“I  don’t  believe  any  two  words  in  the  English  language  are 
synonymous.” 

“Oh,  I don’t  know.  What’s  the  matter  with  ‘raise’  and 
‘lift’?” 

“There’s  a big  difference.  I ‘raise’  chickens  and  have  a 
neighbor  who  has  been  known  to  ‘lift’  them.” 


TABLE  MANNERS 

See  Dining. 

TACT 

It  was  at  the  private  theatricals,  and  the  young  man  wished 
to  compliment  his  hostess,  saying: 

“Madam,  you  played  your  part  splendidly.  It  fits  you  to 
perfection.” 

“I’m  afraid  not.  A young  and  pretty  woman  is  needed  for 
that  part,”  said  the  smiling  hostess. 

“But,  madam,  you  have  positively  proved  the  contrary.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


427 


TAFT,  WILLIAM  HOWARD 

When  Mr.  Taft  was  on  his  campaigning  tour  in  the  west, 
before  he  had  been  elected  President,  he  stopped  at  the  home 
of  an  old  friend.  It  was  a small  house,  not  well  built,  and  as 
he  walked  about  in  his  room  the  unsubstantial  little  house 
fairly  shook  with  his  tread.  When  he  got  into  bed  that  recep- 
tacle, unused  to  so  much  weight,  gave  way,  precipitating  Taft 
on  the  floor. 

His  friend  hurried  to  his  door. 

“What’s  the  matter,  Bill?” 

“Oh,  I’m  all  right,  I guess,”  Taft  called  out  to  his  friend 
good-naturedly;  “but  say,  Joe,  if  you  don’t  find  me  here  in 
the  morning  look  in  the  cellar.” 

One  morning  a few  summers  ago  President  Taft,  wearing 
the  largest  bathing  suit  known  to  modern  times,  threw  his  sub- 
stantial form  into  the  cooling  waves  of  Beverly  Bay.  Short- 
ly afterward  one  neighbor  said  to  another:  “Let’s  go  bathing.” 

“How  can  we?”  was  the  response.  “The  President  is  using 
the  ocean.” 


TALENT 

See  Actors  and  actresses. 

TALKERS 

Some  years  ago,  Mark  Twain  was  a guest  of  honor  at  an 
opera  box-party  given  by  a prominent  member  of  New  York 
society.  The  hostess  had  been  particularly  talkative  all  dur- 
ing the  performance — to  Mr.  Clemens’s  increasing  irritation. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  opera,  she  turned  to  him  and  said 
gushingly : 

“Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Clemens,  I do  so  want  you  to  be  with 
us  next  Friday  evening.  I’m  certain  you  will  like  it — the  opera 
will  be  ‘Tosca.’  ” 

“Charmed,  I’m  sure,”  replied  Clemens.  “I’ve  never  heard 
you  in  that.” 


428 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


It  was  a beautiful  evening  and  Ole,  who  had  screwed  up 
courage  to  take  Mary  for  a ride,  was  carried  away  by  the 
magic  of  the  night. 

“Mary,”  he  asked,  “will  you  marry  me?” 

“Yes,  Ole,”  she  answered  softly. 

Ole  lapsed  into  a silence  that  at  last  became  painful  to  his 
fiancee. 

“Ole,”  she  said  desperately,  “why  don’t  you  say  something?” 

“Ay  tank,”  Ole  replied,  “they  bane  too  much  said  already.” 

“Sir,”  said  the  sleek-looking  agent,  approaching  the  desk  of 
the  meek,  meaching-looking  man  and  opening  one  of  those  fold- 
ing thingumjigs  showing  styles  of  binding,  “I  believe  I can  inter- 
est you  in  this  massive  set  of  books  containing  the  speeches  of 
the  world’s  greatest  orators.  Seventy  volumes,  one  dollar  down 
and  one  dollar  a month  until  the  price,  six  hundred  and  eighty 
dollars  has  been  paid.  This  set  of  books  gives  you  the  most 
celebrated  speeches  of  the  greatest  talkers  the  world  has  ever 
known  and ” 

“Let  me  see  the  index,”  said  the  meek  man. 

The  agent  handed  it  to  him  and  he  looked  through  it  care- 
fully and  methodically,  running  his  finger  along  the  list  of 
names. 

Reaching  the  end  he  handed  the  index  back  to  the  agent 
and  said : “It  isn’t  what  you  claim  it  is.  I happen  to  know 
the  greatest  talker  in  the  world,  and  you  haven’t  her  in  the 
index.” 

A guest  was  expected  for  dinner  and  Bobby  had  received 
five  cents  as  the  price  of  his  silence  during  the  meal.  He  was 
as  quiet  as  a mouse  until,  discovering  that  his  favorite  des- 
sert was  being  served,  he  could  no  longer  curb  his  enthusiasm. 
He  drew  the  coin  from  his  pocket,  and  rolling  it  across  the 
table,  exclaimed : “Here’s  your  nickel,  Mamma.  I’d  rather 
talk.” 

A belated  voyager  in  search  of  hilarity  stumbled  home  after 
one  o’clock  and  found  his  wife  waiting  for  him.  The  curtain 
lecture  that  followed  was  of  unusual  virulence,  and  in  the  midst 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


429 


of  it  he  fell  asleep.  Awakening  a few  hours  later  he  found  his 
wife  still  pouring  forth  a regular  cascade  of  denunciation.  Eye- 
ing her  sleepily  he  said  curiously, 

“Say,  are  you  talking  yet  or  again?” 

“You  must  not  talk  all  the  time,  Ethel,”  said  the  mother 
who  had  been  interrupted. 

“When  will  I be  old  enough  to,  Mama?”  asked  the  little  girl. 

While  the  late  Justice  Brewer  was  judge  in  a minor  court 
he  was  presiding  at  the  trial  of  a wife’s  suit  for  separation  and 
alimony.  The  defendant  acknowledged  that  he  hadn’t  spoken 
to  his  wife  in  five  years,  and  Judge  Brewer  put  in  a question. 

“What  explanation  have  you,”  he  asked  severely,  “for  not 
speaking  to  your  wife  in  five  years?” 

“Your  Honor,”  replied  the  husband,  “I  didn’t  like  to  inter- 
rupt the  lady.” 


She  was  in  an  imaginative  mood. 

“Henry,  dear,”  she  said  after  talking  two  hours  without  a 
recess,  “I  sometimes  wish  I were  a mermaid.” 

“It  would  be  fatal,”  snapped  her  weary  hubby. 

“Fatal!  In  what  way?” 

“Why,  you  couldn’t  keep  your  mouth  closed  long  enough 
to  keep  from  drowning.” 

And  after  that,  Henry  did  not  get  any  supper. 

“Here  comes  Blinkers.  He’s  got  a new  baby,  and  he’ll  talk 
us  to  death.” 

“Well,  here  comes  a neighbor  of  mine  who  has  a new  setter 
dog.  Let’s  introduce  them  and  leave  them  to  their  fate.” — Life. 

A street-car  was  getting  under  way  when  two  women,  rush- 
ing from  opposite  sides  of  the  street  to  greet  each  other,  met 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  car-track  and  in  front  of  the  car. 
There  the  two  stopped  and  began  to  talk.  The  car  stopped, 
too,  but  the  women  did  not  appear  to  realize  that  it  was  there. 
Certain  of  the  passengers,  whose  heads  were  immediately  thrust 


430 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


out  of  the  windows  to  ascertain  what  the  trouble  was,  began 
to  make  sarcastic  remarks,  but  the  two  women  heeded  them  not. 

Finally  the  motorman  showed  that  he  had  a saving  sense 
of  humor.  Leaning  over  the  dash-board,  he  inquired,  in  the 
gentlest  of  tones : 

“Pardon  me,  ladies,  but  shall  I get  you  a couple  of  chairs  ?” 

A — “I  used  a word  in  speaking  to  my  wife  which  offended 
her  sorely  a week  ago.  She  has  not  spoken  a syllable  to  me 
since.” 

B — “Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  it  was?” 

In  general  those  who  have  nothing  to  say 
Contrive  to  spend  the  longest  time  in  doing  it. 

— Lowell. 

See  also  Wives. 


TARDINESS 

“You’ll  be  late  for  supper,  sonny,”  said  the  merchant,  in  pass- 
ing a small  boy  who  was  carrying  a package. 

“No,  I won’t,”  was  the  reply.  “I’ve  dot  de  meat.” — Mabel 
Lang. 

“How  does  it  happen  that  you  are  five  minutes  late  at  school 
this  morning?”  the  teacher  asked  severely. 

“Please,  ma’am,”  said  Ethel,  “I  must  have  overwashed  my- 

self.” 


TARIFF 

Why  not  have  an  illuminated  sign  on  the  statue  of  Liberty 
saying,  “America  expects  every  man  to  pay  his  duty?” — Kenl 
Packard. 


TASTE 

“It  isn’t  wise  for  a painter  to  be  too  frank  in  his  criticisms,” 
said  Robert  Henri  at  a luncheon.  “I  know  a very  outspoken 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


43i 


painter  whose  little  daughter  called  at  a friend’s  house  and  said: 
“‘Show  me  your  new  parlor  rug,  won’t  you,  please?’ 

“So,  with  great  pride,  the  hostess  led  the  little  girl  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  raised  all  the  blinds,  so  that  the  light  might 
stream  in  abundantly  upon  the  gorgeous  colors  of  an  expensive 
Kirmanshah. 

“The  little  girl  stared  down  at  the  rug  in  silence.  Then,  as 
she  turned  away,  she  said  in  a rather  disappointed  voice : 

“ ‘It  doesn’t  make  me  sick !’  ” 

TEACHERS 

A rural  school  has  a pretty  girl  as  its  teacher,  but  she  was 
much  troubled  because  many  of  her  pupils  were  late  every 
morning.  At  last  she  made  the  announcement  that  she  would 
kiss  the  first  pupil  to  arrive  at  the  schoolhouse  the  next  morn- 
ing. At  sunrise  the  largest  three  boys  of  her  class  were  sit- 
ting on  the  doorstep  of  the  schoolhouse,  and  by  six  o’clock  every 
boy  in  the  school  and  four  of  the  directors  were  waiting  for 
her  to  arrive. 


“Why  did  you  break  your  engagement  with  that  school 
teacher?” 

“If  I failed  to  show  up  at  her  house  every  evening,  she 
expected  me  to  bring  a written  excuse  signed  by  my  mother.” 


Among  the  youngsters  belonging  to  a colege  settlement  in 
a New  England  city  was  one  little  girl  who  returned  to  her 
humble  home  with  glowing  accounts  of  the  new  teacher. 

“She’s  a perfect  lady,”  exclaimed  the  enthusiastic  youngster. 
The  child’s  mother  gave  her  a doubtful  look.  “How  do 
you  know?”  she  said.  “You’ve  only  known  her  two  days.” 
“It’s  easy  enough  tellin’,”  continued  the  child.  “I  know  she’s 
a perfect  lady,  because  she  makes  you  feel  polite  all  the  time.” 

Mother — “The  teacher  complains  you  have  not  had  a cor- 
rect lesson  for  a month;  why  is  it?” 

Son — “She  always  kisses  me  when  I get  them  right.” 


432 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


There  was  a meeting  of  the  new  teachers  and  the  old.  It 
was  a sort  of  love  feast,  reception  or  whatever  you  call  it. 
Anyhow  all  the  teachers  got  together  and  pretended  they  didn’t 
have  a care  in  the  world.  After  the  eats  were  et  the  sym- 
posiarch  proposed  a toast: 

“Long  Live  Our  Teachers !” 

It  was  drunk  enthusiastically.  One  of  the  new  teachers  was 
called  on  to  respond.  He  modestly  accepted.  His  answer  was : 

“What  On?” 

Teacher — “Now,  Willie,  where  did  you  get  that  chewing 
gum?  I want  the  truth.” 

Willie — “You  don’t  want  the  truth,  teacher,  an’  I’d  ruther 
not  tell  a lie.” 

Teacher — “How  dare  you  say  I don’t  want  the  truth ! Tell 
me  at  once  where  you  got  that  chewing-gum.” 

Willie — “Under  your  desk.” 

Grave  is  the  Master’s  look;  his  forehead  wears 
Thick  rows  of  wrinkles,  prints  of  worrying  cares: 

Uneasy  lie  the  heads  of  all  that  rule, 

His  worst  of  all  whose  kingdom  is  a school. 

— O.  W.  Holmes. 


TEARS 

Two  Irishmen  who  had  just  landed  were  eating  their  din- 
ner in  a hotel,  when  Pat  spied  a bottle  of  horseradish.  Not 
knowing  what  it  was  he  partook  of  a big  mouthful,  which 
brought  tears  to  his  eyes. 

Mike,  seeing  Pat  crying,  exclaimed:  “Phat  be  ye  cryin’  fer?” 

Pat,  wishing  to  have  Mike  fooled  also,  exclaimed : “I’m 
crying  fer  me  poor  ould  mother,  who’s  dead  way  over  in  Ire- 
land.” 

By  and  by  Mike  took  some  of  the  radish,  whereupon  tears 
filled  his  eyes.  Pat,  seeing  them,  asked  his  friend  what  he 
was  crying  for. 

Mike  replied : “Because  ye  didn’t  die  at  the  same  time  yer 
poor  ould  mother  did.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


433 


TEETH 

There  was  an  old  man  of  Tarentum, 

Who  gnashed  his  false  teeth  till  he  bent  'em : 

And  when  asked  for  the  cost 
Of  what  he  had  lost, 

Said,  “I  really  can’t  tell  for  I rent  ’em!" 

— Gilbert  K.  Chesterton. 


Pat  came  to  the  office  with  his  jaw  very  much  swollen 
from  a tooth  he  desired  to  have  pulled.  But  when  the  suf- 
fering son  of  Erin  got  into  the  dentist’s  chair  and  saw  the 
gleaming  pair  of  forceps  approaching  his  face,  he  positively 
refused  to  open  his  mouth. 

The  dentist  quietly  told  his  office  boy  to  prick  his  patient 
with  a pin,  and  when  Pat  opened  his  mouth  to  yell  the  den- 
tist seized  the  tooth,  and  out  it  came. 

“It  didn’t  hurt  as  much  as  you  expected  it  would,  did  it?" 
the  dentist  asked  smiling. 

“Well,  no,"  replied  Pat  hesitatingly,  as  if  doubting  the  truth- 
fulness of  his  admission.  “But,"  he  added,  placing  his  hand  on 
the  spot  where  the  boy  jabbed  him  with  the  pin,  “begorra,  lit- 
tle did  I think  the  roots  would  reach  down  like  that." 


An  Irishman  with  one  side  of  his  face  badly  swollen  stepped 
into  Dr.  Wicten’s  office  and  inquired  if  the  dentist  was  in. 

“I  am  the  dentist,"  said  the  doctor. 

“Well,  then,  I want  ye  to  see  what’s  the  matter  wid  me 
tooth." 

The  doctor  examined  the  offending  molar,  and  explained : 

“The  nerve  is  dead;  that’s  what’s  the  matter." 

“Thin,  be  the  powers,"  the  Irishman  exclaimed,  “the  other 
teeth  must  be  houldin’  a wake  over  it!" 


For  there  was  never  yet  philosopher 
That  could  endure  the  toothache  patiently. 

— Shakespeare . 


434 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


TELEPHONE 

Two  girls  were  talking  over  the  wire.  Both  were  discussing 
what  they  should  wear  to  the  Christmas  party.  In  the  midst 
of  this  important  conversation  a masculine  voice  interrupted, 
asking  humbly  for  a number.  One  of  the  girls  became  indig- 
nant and  scornfully  asked: 

“What  line  do  you  think  you  are  on,  anyhow?” 

‘‘Well,  said  the  man,  “I  am  not  sure,  but,  judging  from 
what  I have  heard,  I should  say  I was  on  a clothesline.” 

When  Grover  Cleveland's  little  girl  was  quite  young  her 
father  once  telephoned  to  the  White  House  from  Chicago  and 
asked  Mrs.  Cleveland  to  bring  the  child  to  the  ’phone.  Lifting 
the  little  one  up  to  the  instrument,  Mrs.  Cleveland  watched  her 
expression  change  from  bewilderment  to  wonder  and  then  to 
fear.  It  was  surely  her  father’s  voice — yet  she  looked  at  the 
telephone  incredulously.  After  examining  the  tiny  opening  in 
the  receiver  the  little  girl  burst  into  tears.  “Oh,  Mamma!” 
she  sobbed.  “How  can  we  ever  get  Papa  out  of  that  little 
hole?” 

New  York  Elks  are  having  a lot  of  fun  with  a member  of 
their  lodge,  a Fifteenth  Street  jeweler.  The  other  day  his  wife 
was  in  the  jewelry  store  when  the  ’phone  rang.  She  answered  it. 

“I  want  to  speak  to  Mr.  H ,”  said  a woman’s  voice. 

“Who  is  this?’  demanded  the  jeweler’s  wife. 

“Elizabeth.” 

“Well,  Elizabeth,  this  is  his  wife.  Now,  madam,  what  do 
you  want?” 

“I  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  H .” 

“You’ll  talk  to  me.” 

“Please  let  me  speak  to  Mr.  H .” 

The  jeweler’s  wife  grew  angry.  “Look  here,  young  lady,” 
she  said,  “who  are  you  that  calls  my  husband  and  insists  on 
talking  to  him?” 

“I’m  the  telephone  operator  at  Elizabeth,  N.  J.,”  came  the 
reply. 

And  now  the  Elks  take  turns  calling  the  jeweler  up  and  tell- 
ing him  it’s  Elizabeth. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


435 


Operator — “Number,  please.” 

Subscriber — “I  vas  talking  mit  my  husband  und  now  I don’t 
hear  him  any  more.  You  must  of  pushed  him  off  de  vire.” 


A German  woman  called  up  Central  and  instructed  her  as 
follows : 

“1st  dis  de  mittle?  Veil  dis  is  Lena.  Hang  my  hustband 
on  dis  line.  I vant  to  speak  mit  him.” 


In  China  when  the  subscriber  rings  up  exchange  the  operator 
may  be  expected  to  ask : 

“What  number  does  the  honorable  son  of  the  moon  and 
stars  desire?” 

“Hohi,  two-three.” 

Silence.  Then  the  exchange  resumes. 

“Will  the  honorable  person  graciously  forgive  the  inade- 
quacy of  the  insignificant  service  and  permit  this  humbled 
slave  of  the  wire  to  inform  him  that  the  never-to-be-sufficiently 
censured  line  is  busy?” 


Recipe  for  a telephone  operator : 

To  a fearful  and  wonderful  rolling  of  r’s,” 

And  a voice  cold  as  thirty  below, 

Add  a dash  of  red  pepper,  some  ginger  and  sass 
If  you  leave  out  the  “o”  in  “hello” ! 

TEMPER 

Hearing  the  crash  of  china  Dinah’s  mistress  arrived  in  time 
to  see  her  favorite  coffee-set  in  pieces.  The  sight  was  too 
much  for  her  mercurial  temper.  “Dinah,”  she  said,  “I  cannot 
stand  it  any  longer.  I want  you  to  go.  I want  you  to  go  soon, 
I want  you  to  go  right  now.” 

“Lawzee,”  replied  Dinah,  “this  surely  am  a co-instence.  I 
was  this  very  minute  cogitatin’  that  same  thought  in  my  own 
mind — I want  to  go,  I thank  the  good  Lawd  I kin  go,  and  I 
pity  your  husband,  ma’am,  that  he  can’t  go.” 


436 


TO  ASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


TEMPERANCE 

A Boston  deacon  who  was  a zealous  advocate  for  the  cause 
of  temperance  employed  a carpenter  to  make  some  alterations 
in  his  home.  In  repairing  a corner  near  the  fireplace,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  remove  the  wainscot,  when  some  things 
were  brought  to  light  which  greatly  astonished  the  workman. 
A brace  of  decanters,  sundry  bottles  containing  “something  to 
take,”  a pitcher,  and  tumblers  were  cosily  reposing  in  their 
snug  quarters.  The  joiner  ran  to  the  proprietor  with  the  in- 
telligence. 

“Well,  I declare !”  exclaimed  the  deacon.  “That  is  curious, 
sure  enough.  It  must  be  old  Captain  Bunce  that  left  those 
things  there  when  he  occupied  the  premises  thirty  years  since.” 

“Perhaps  he  did,  returned  the  discoverer,  but,  Deacon,  that 
ice  in  the  pitcher  must  have  been  well  frozen  to  remain  solid.” — 
Abbie  C.  Dixon. 

Here’s  to  a temperance  supper, 

With  water  in  glasses  tall, 

And  coffee  and  tea  to  end  with — 

And  me  not  there  at  all. 

The  best  prohibition  story  of  the  season  comes  from  Kan- 
sas where,  it  is  said,  a local  candidate  stored  a lot  of  printed 
prohibition  literature  in  his  barn,  but  accidentally  left  the  door 
open  and  a herd  of  milch  cows  came  in  and  ate  all  the  pamph- 
lets. As  a result  every  cow  in  the  herd  went  dry. 

— Adrian  Times. 

A Michigan  citizen  recently  received  a letter  from  a Ken- 
tucky whisky  house,  requesting  him  to  send  them  the  names 
of  a dozen  or  more  persons  who  would  like  to  get  some  fine 
whisky  shipped  to  them  at  a very  low  price.  The  letter  wound 
up  by  saying: 

“We  will  give  you  a commission  on  all  the  orders  sent  in 
by  parties  whose  names  you  send  us.” 

The  Michigan  man  belonged  to  a practical  joke  class,  and 
filled  in  the  names  of  some  of  his  prohibition  friends  on  the 
blank  spaces  left  for  that  purpose. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


437 


He  had  forgotten  all  about  his  supposed  practical  joke 
when  Monday  he  received  another  letter  from  the  same  house. 
He  supposed  it  was  a request  for  some  more  names,  and  was 
just  about  to  throw  the  communication  in  the  waste  basket  when 
it  occurred  to  him  to  send  the  name  of  another  old  friend  to  the 
whisky  house.  He  accordingly  tore  open  the  envelope,  and 
came  near  collapsing  when  he  found  a check  for  $4.80,  rep- 
resenting his  commission  on  the  sale  of  whisky  to  the  parties 
whose  names  he  had  sent  in  about  three  weeks  before. 

Abstinence  is  as  easy  to  me  as  temperance  would  be  diffi- 
cult.— Samuel  Johnson. 


TEXAS 

The  bigness  of  Texas  is  evident  from  a cursory  examina- 
tion of  the  map.  But  its  effect  upon  the  people  of  that  state 
is  not  generally  known.  It  is  about  six  hundred  miles  from 
Brownsville,  at  the  bottom  of  the  map,  to  Dallas,  which  is 
several  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  top  of  the  map.  Hence  the 
following  conversation  in  Brownsville  recently  between  two 
of  the  old-time  residents : 

“Where  have  you  been  lately,  Bob?  I ain’t  seen  much  of 
you.” 

“Been  on  a trip  north.” 

“Where’d  you  go?” 

“Went  to  Dallas.” 

“Have  a good  time?” 

“Naw;  I never  did  like  them  damn  Yankees,  anyway.” 
TEXTS 

In  the  Tennessee  mountains  a mountaineer  preacher,  who 
had  declared  colleges  “the  works  of  the  devil,”  was  preaching 
without  previous  meditation  an  inspirational  sermon  from  the 
text,  “The  voice  of  the  turtle  shall  be  heard  in  the  land.”  Not 
noting  that  the  margin  read  “turtle-dove,”  he  proceeded  in  this 
manner : 

“This  text,  my  hearers,  strikes  me  as  one  of  the  most  pe- 
culiar texts  in  the  whole  book,  because  we  all  know  that  a 


438 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


turtle  ain’t  got  no  voice.  But  by  the  inward  enlightenment  1 
begin  to  see  the  meaning  and  will  expose  it  to  you.  Down  in 
the  hollers  by  the  streams  and  ponds  you  have  gone  in  the 
springtime,  my  brethren,  and  observed  the  little  turtles,  a-sleep- 
ing  on  the  logs.  But  at  the  sound  of  the  approach  of  a human 
being,  they  went  kerflop-ker plunk , down  into  the  water.  This 
I say,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  the  prophet:  he,  speakinging  fig- 
geratively,  referred  to  the  kerflop  of  the  turtle  as  the  voice  of 
the  turtle,  and  hence  we  see  that  in  those  early  times  the 
prophet,  looking  down  at  the  ages  to  come,  clearly  taught  and 
prophesied  the  doctrine  I have  always  preached  to  this  con- 
gregation— that  immersion  is  the  only  form  of  baptism.” 

John  D.  Rockefeller,  Jr.,  once  asked  a clergyman  to  give 
him  an  appropriate  Bible  verse  on  which  to  base  an  address 
which  he  was  to  make  at  the  latter’s  church. 

“I  was  thinking,”  said  young  Rockefeller,  “that  I would 
take  the  verse  from  the  Twenty-third  Psalm : ‘The  Lord  is  my 
shepherd.’  Would  that  seem  appropriate?” 

“Quite,”  said  the  clergyman;  “but  do  you  really  want  an 
appropriate  verse?” 

“I  certainly  do,”  was  the  reply. 

“Well,  then,”  said  the  clergyman,  with  a twinkle  in  his  eye, 
“I  would  select  the  verse  in  the  same  Psalm : ‘Thou  anointest 
my  head  with  oil ; my  cup  runneth  over.’  ” 

THEATER 

“Say,  old  man,”  chattered  the  press-agent,  who  had  cor- 
nered a producer  of  motion-picture  plays,  “I’ve  got  a grand 
idea  for  a film-drama.  Listen  to  the  impromptu  scenario : 
Scene  one,  exterior  of  a Broadway  theater,  with  the  ticket - 
speculators  getting  the  coin  in  handfuls,  and ” 

“You’re  out!”  interrupted  the  producer.  “Why,  don’t  you 
know  that  the  law  don’t  permit  us  to  show  an  actual  robbery 
on  the  screen?” — P.  H.  Carey. 

“Why  don’t  women  have  the  same  sense  of  humor  that  men 
possess?”  asked  Mr.  Torkins. 

“Perhaps,”  answered  his  wife  gently,  “it’s  because  we  don’t 
attend  the  same  theaters.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


439 


It  appears  that  at  the  rehearsal  of  a play,  a wonderful  climax 
had  been  reached,  which  was  to  be  heightened  by  the  effective 
use  of  the  usual  thunder  and  lightning.  The  stage-carpenter 
was  given  the  order.  The  words  were  spoken,  and  instantly  a 
noise  which  resembled  a succession  of  pistol-shots  was  heard 
off  the  wings. 

“What  on  earth  are  you  doing,  man?”  shouted  the  manager, 
rushing  behind  the  scenes.  “Do  you  call  that  thunder?  It’s 
not  a bit  like  it.” 

“Awfully  sorry,  sir,”  responded  the  carpenter;  “but  the 
fact  is,  sir,  I couldn’t  hear  you  because  of  the  storm.  That 
was  real  thunder,  sir!” 

Everybody  has  his  own  theater,  in  which  he  is  manager, 
actor,  prompter,  playwright,  sceneshifter,  boxkeeper,  doorkeeper, 
all  in  one,  and  audience  into  the  bargain. 

— /.  C.  and  A.  W.  Hare. 


THIEVES 

Georgia  Lawyer  (to  colored  prisoner) — “Well,  Ras,  so  you 
want  me  to  defend  you.  Have  you  any  money?” 

Rastus — “No;  but  I’se  got  a mule,  and  a few  chickens,  and 
a hog  or  two.” 

Lawyer — “Those  will  do  very  nicely.  Now,  let’s  see;  what 
do  they  accuse  you  of  stealing?” 

Rastus — “Oh,  a mule,  and  a few  chickens,  and  a hog  or 
two.” 

At  a dinner  given  by  the  prime  minister  of  a little  kingdom 
on  the  Balkan  Peninsula,  a distinguished  diplomat  complained 
to  his  host  that  the  minister  of  justice,  who  had  been  sitting 
on  his  left,  had  stolen  his  watch. 

“Ah,  he  shouldn’t  have  done  that,”  said  the  prime  minister, 
in  tones  of  annoyance.  “I  will  get  it  back  for  you.” 

Sure  enough,  toward  the  end  of  the  evening  the  watch  was 
returned  to  its  owner. 

“And  what  did  he  say?”  asked  the  diplomat. 

“Sh-h,”  cautioned  the  host,  glancing  anxiously  about  him. 
“He  doesn’t  know  that  I have  got  it  back.” 


440 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Senator  “Bob”  Taylor,  of  Tennessee,  tells  a story  of  how, 
when  he  was  “Fiddling  Bob,”  governor  of  that  state,  an  old 
negress  came  to  him  and  said: 

“Massa  Gov’na,  we’s  mighty  po’  this  winter,  and  Ah  wish 
you  would  pardon  mah  old  man.  He  is  a fiddler  same  as  you 
is,  and  he’s  in  the  pen’tentry.” 

“What  was  he  put  in  for?”  asked  the  governor. 

“Stead  of  workin’  fo’  it  that  good-fo’-nothin’  nigger  done 
stole  some  bacon.” 

“If  he  is  good  for  nothing  what  do  you  want  him  back 
for?” 

“Well,  yo’  see,  we’s  all  out  of  bacon  ag’in,”  said  the  old  ne- 
gress innocently. 

“Did  ye  see  as  Jim  got  ten  years’  penal  for  stealing  that 
’oss?” 

“Serve  ’im  right,  too.  Why  didn’t  ’e  buy  the  ’oss  and  not 
pay  for  ’im  like  any  other  gentleman?” 


Some  time  ago  a crowd  of  Bowery  sports  went  over  to 
Philadelphia  to  see  a prize  fight.  One  “wise  guy,”  who,  among 
other  things,  is  something  of  a pickpocket,  was  so  sure  of  the 
result  that  he  was  willing  to  bet  on  it. 

“The  Kid’s  goin’  t’  win.  It’s  a pipe,”  he  told  a friend. 

The  friend  expressed  doubts. 

“Sure  he’ll  win,”  the  pickpocket  persisted.  “I’ll  bet  you 
a gold  watch  he  wins.” 

Still  the  friend  doubted. 

“Why,”  exclaimed  the  pickpocket,  “I’m  willin’  to  bet  you 
a good  gold  watch  he  wins ! Y’  know  what  I’ll  do  ? Come 
through  the  train  with  me  now,  an’  y’  can  pick  out  any  old 
watch  y’  like.” 

In  vain  we  call  old  notions  fudge 
And  bend  our  conscience  to  our  dealing. 

The  Ten  Commandments  will  not  budge 
And  stealing  will  continue  stealing. 

— Motto  of  American  Copyright  League . 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


441 


Suspicion  always  haunts  the  guilty  mind; 

The  thief  doth  fear  each  bush  an  officer. 

— Shakespeare. 

See  also  Chicken  stealing;  Lawyers;  Lost  and  found. 
THIN  PEOPLE 

There  was  an  old  fellow  named  Green, 

Who  grew  so  abnormally  lean, 

And  flat,  and  compressed, 

That  his  back  touched  his  chest, 

And  sideways  he  couldn’t  be  seen. 

There  was  a young  lady  of  Lynn, 

Who  was  so  excessively  thin, 

That  when  she  essayed 
To  drink  lemonade 

She  slipped  through  the  straw  and  fell  in. 

THRIFT 

It  was  said  of  a certain  village  “innocent”  or  fool  in  Scot- 
land that  if  he  were  offered  a silver  sixpence  or  copper  penny 
he  would  invariably  choose  the  larger  coin  of  smaller  value. 
One  day  a stranger  asked  him : 

“Why  do  you  always  take  the  penny?  Don’t  you  know  the 
difference  in  value? 

“Aye,”  answered  the  fool,  “I  ken  the  difference  in  value. 
But  if  I took  the  saxpence  they  would  never  try  me  again.” 

The  Mrs.  never  misses 
Any  bargain  sale, 

For  the  female  of  the  species 
Is  more  thrifty  than  the  male. 

McAndrews  (the  chemist,  at  two  a.  m.) — “Two  penn’orth 
of  bicarbonate  of  soda  for  indigestion  at  this  time  o’  night, 
when  a glass  of  hot  water  does  just  as  well!” 


442 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Sandy  (hastily) — “Well,  well!  Thanks  for  the  advice.  I'll 
not  bother  ye,  after  all.  Gude  nicht!” 


The  foreman  and  his  crew  of  bridgemen  were  striving  hard 
to  make  an  impression  on  the  select  board  provided  by  Mrs. 
Rooney  at  her  Arkansas  eating  establishment. 

“The  old  man  sure  made  a funny  deal  down  at  Piney  yes- 
terday,” observed  the  foreman,  with  a wink  at  the  man  to  his 
right. 

“What’d  he  do?”  asked  the  new  man  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table. 

“Well,  a year  or  so  ago  there  used  to  be  a water  tank  there, 
but  they  took  down  the  tub  and  brought  it  up  to  Cabin  Creek. 
The  well  went  dry  and  they  covered  it  over.  It  was  four  or 
five  feet  round,  ninety  feet  deep,  anl  plumb  in  the  right  of  way. 
Didn’t  know  what  to  do  with  it  until  along  comes  an  old  lolly- 
pop  yesterday  and  gives  the  Old  Man  five  dollars  for  it.” 

“Five  dollars  for  what?”  asked  the  new  man. 

“Well,”  continued  the  foreman,  ignoring  the  interruption, 
“that  old  lollypop  borrowed  two  jacks  from  the  trackmen  and 
jacked  her  up  out  of  there  and  carried  her  home  on  wheels/ 

“What’d  he  do  with  it?”  persisted  the  new  man. 

“Say  that  old  lollypop  must’ve  been  a Yank.  Nobody  else 
could  have  figured  it  out.  The  ground  on  his  place  is  hard 
and  he  needed  some  more  fence.  So  he  calc’lated  ’twould  be 
easier  and  cheaper  to  saw  that  old  well  up  into  post-holes  than 
’twould  be  to  dig  'em.” 

A certain  workman,  notorious  for  his  sponging  proclivi- 
ties, met  a friend  one  morning,  and  opened  the  conversation 
by  saying: 

“Can  ye  len’  us  a match,  John?” 

John  having  supplied  him  with  the  match,  the  first  speak- 
er began  to  feel  his  pockets  ostentatiously,  and  then  remark- 
ed dolefully,  “Man,  I seem  to  have  left  my  tobacco  pouch  at 
hame.” 

John,  however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  holding  out 
his  hand,  remarked : 

“Aweel,  ye’ll  no  be  needin’  that  match  then.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


443 


A Highlander  was  summoned  to  the  bedside  of  his  dying 
father.  When  he  arrived  the  old  man  was  fast  nearing  his 
end.  For  a while  he  remained  unconscious  of  his  son’s  pres- 
ence. Then  at  last  the  old  man’s  eyes  opened,  and  he  began 
to  murmur.  The  son  bent  eagerly  to  listen. 

“Dugald,”  whispered  the  parent,  “Luckie  Simpson  owes  me 
five  shilling.” 

“Ay,  man,  ay,”  said  the  son  eagerly. 

“An’  Dugal  More  owes  me  seven  shillins.” 

“Ay,”  assented  the  son. 

“An’  Hamish  McCraw  owes  me  ten  shillins.” 

“Sensible  tae  the  last,”  muttered  the  delighted  heir.  “Sensible 
tae  the  last.” 

Once  more  the  voice  from  the  bed  took  up  the  tale. 

“An’,  Dugald,  I owe  Calum  Beg  two  pounds.” 

Dugald  shook  his  head  sadly. 

“Wanderin’  again,  wanderin’  again,”  he  sighed.  “It’s  a 
peety.” 

The  canny  Scot  wandered  into  the  pharmacy. 

“I’m  wanting  threepenn’orth  o’  laudanum,”  he  announced. 

“What  for?”  asked  the  chemist  suspiciously. 

“For  twopence,”  responded  the  Scot  at  once. 


A Scotsman  wishing  to  know  his  fate  at  once,  telegraphed 
a proposal  of  marriage  to  the  lady  of  his  choice.  After  spend- 
ing the  entire  day  at  the  telegraph  office  he  was  finally  re- 
warded late  in  the  evening  by  an  affirmative  answer. 

“If  I were  you,”  suggested  the  operator  when  he  delivered 
the  message,  “I’d  think  twice  before  I’d  marry  a girl  that  kept 
me  waiting  all  day  for  my  answer.” 

“Na,  na,”  retorted  the  Scot.  “The  lass  who  waits  for  the 
night  rates  is  the  lass  for  me.” 

“Well,  yes,”  said  Old  Uncle  Lazzenberry,  who  was  intimately 
acquainted  with  most  of  the  happenstances  of  the  village. 
“Almira  Stang  has  broken  off  her  engagement  with  Charles 
Henry  Tootwiler.  They’d  be  goin’  together  for  about  eight 
years,  durin’  which  time  she  had  been  inculcatin’  into  him,  as 


444 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


you  might  call  it,  the  beauties  of  economy;  but  when  she  dis- 
covered, just  lately,  that  he  had  learnt  his  lesson  so  well  that 
he  had  saved  up  two  hundred  and  seventeen  pairs  of  socks 
for  her  to  darn  immediately  after  the  wedding,  she  ’peared  to 
conclude  that  he  had  taken  her  advice  a little  too  literally,  and 
broke  off  the  match.” — Puck. 

They  sat  each  at  an  extreme  end  of  the  horsehair  sofa.  They 
had  been  courting  now  for  something  like  two  years,  but  the 
wide  gap  between  had  always  been  respectfully  preserved. 

“A  penny  for  your  thochts,  Sandy,”  murmured  Maggie,  after 
a silence  of  an  hour  and  a half. 

“Weel,”  replied  Sandy  slowly,  with  surprising  boldness,  “tae 
tell  ye  the  truth,  I was  jist  thinkin’  how  fine  it  wad  be  if  ye 
were  tae  gie  me  a wee  bit  kissie.” 

“I’ve  nae  objection,”  simpered  Maggie,  slithering  over,  and 
kissed  him  plumply  on  the  tip  of  his  left  ear. 

Sandy  relapsed  into  a brown  study  once  more,  and  the  clock 
ticked  twenty-seven  minutes. 

“An’  what  are  ye  thinkin’  about  noo — anither,  eh?” 

“Nae,  nae,  lassie;  it’s  mair  serious  the  noo.” 

“Is  it,  laddie?”  asked  Maggie  softly.  Her  heart  was  going 
pit-a-pat  with  expectation.  “An’  what  micht  it  be?” 

“I  was  jist  thinkin’,”  answered  Sandy,  “that  it  was  aboot 
time  ye  were  paying  me  that  penny!” 

The  coward  calls  himself  cautious,  the  miser  thrifty. 

— Syrus. 

There  are  but  two  ways  of  paying  debt:  increase  of  industry 
in  raising  income,  increase  of  thrift  in  laying  out. — Carlyle. 


See  also  Economy;  Saving. 

TIDES 

A Kansan  sat  on  the  beach  at  Atlantic  City  watching  a 
fair  and  very  fat  bather  disporting  herself  in  the  surf.  He 
knew  nothing  of  tides,  and  he  did  not  notice  that  each  sue- 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


445 


ceeding  wave  came  a little  closer  to  his  feet.  At  last  an  extra 
big  wave  washed  over  his  shoe  tops. 

“Hey,  there!”  he  yelled  at  the  fair,  fat  bather.  “Quit  yer 
jumpin’  up  and  down!  D’ye  want  to  drown  me?” 


At  a recent  Confederate  reunion  in  Charleston,  S.  C.,  two 
Kentuckians  were  viewing  the  Atlantic  Ocean  for  the  first  time. 

“Say,  cap’n,”  said  one  of  them,  “what  ought  I to  carry  home 
to  the  children  for  a souvenir?” 

“Why,  colonel,  it  strikes  me  that  some  of  this  here  ocean 
water  would  be  right  interestin’.” 

“Just  the  thing!”  exclaimed  the  colonel  delightedly.  From 
a rear  pocket  he  produced  a flask,  and,  with  the  aid  of  the  cap- 
tain, soon  emptied  it.  Then,  picking  his  way  down  to  the 
water’s  edge,  he  filled  it  to  the  neck  and  replaced  the  cork. 

“Hi,  there ! Don’t  do  that !”  cried  the  captain  in  great  alarm. 
“Pour  out  about  a third  of  that  water.  If  you  don’t,  when  the 
tide  rises  she’ll  bust  sure.” 

Nae  man  can  tether  time  or  tide. — Burns. 


TIME 

Mrs.  Hooligan  was  suffering  from  the  common  complaint 
of  having  more  to  do  than  there  was  time  to  do  it  in.  She 
looked  up  at  the  clock  and  then  slapped  the  iron  she  had  lifted 
from  the  stove  back  on  the  lid  with  a clatter.  “Talk  about  toime 
and  toide  waitin’  fer  no  man,”  she  muttered  as  she  hurried 
into  the  pantry;  “there’s  toimes  they  waits,  an’  toimes  they 
don’t.  Yistherday  at  this  blessed  minit  ’twas  but  tin  o’clock  an’ 
to-day  it’s  a quarther  to  twilve.” 


Mrs.  Murphy — “Oi  hear  yer  brother-in-law,  Pat  Keegan,  is 
pretty  bad  off.” 

Mrs.  Casey — “Shure,  he’s  good  for  a year  yit.” 

Mrs.  Murphy — “As  long  as  thot?” 

Mrs.  Casey — “Yis;  he’s  had  four  different  doctors,  and  each 
one  av  thim  give  him  three  months  to  live.” — Puck. 


446 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A long-winded  attorney  was  arguing  a technical  case  be- 
fore one  of  the  judges  of  the  superior  court  in  a western  state. 
He  had  rambled  on  in  such  a desultory  way  that  it  became  very 
difficult  to  follow  his  line  of  thought,  and  the  judge  had  just 
yawned  very  suggestively. 

With  just  a trace  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice,  the  tiresome  at- 
torney ventured  to  observe : “I  sincerely  trust  that  I am  not 
unduly  trespassing  on  the  time  of  this  court.” 

“My  friend,”  returned  his  honor,  “there  is  a considerable 
difference  between  trespassing  on  time  and  encroaching  upon 
eternity.” — Edwin  Tarrisse. 

A traveler,  finding  that  he  had  a couple  of  hours  in  Dublin, 
called  a cab  and  told  the  driver  to  drive  him  around  for  two 
hours.  At  first  all  went  well,  but  soon  the  driver  began  to 
whip  up  his  horse  so  that  they  narrowly  escaped  several  col- 
lisions. 

“What’s  the  matter?”  demanded  the  passenger.  “Why  are 
you  driving  so  recklessly?  I’m  in  no  hurry.” 

“Ah,  g’wan  wid  yez,”  retorted  the  cabby.  “D’ye  think  thot 
I’m  goin’  to  put  in  me  whole  day  drivin’  ye  around  for  two 
hours?  Gitap!” 

Frank  comes  into  the  house  in  a sorry  plight. 

“Mercy  on  us!”  exclaims  his  father.  “How  you  look!  You 
are  soaked.” 

“Please,  papa,  I fell  into  the  canal.” 

“What!  with  your  new  trousers  on?” 

“Yes,  papa,  I didn’t  have  time  to  take  them  off.” 

A well-known  Bishop,  while  visiting  at  a bride’s  new  home 
for  the  first  time,  was  awakened  quite  early  by  the  soft  tones 
of  a soprano  voice  singing  “Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee.”  As 
the  Bishop  lay  in  bed  he  meditated  upon  the  piety  which  his 
young  hostess  must  possess  to  enable  her  to  begin  her  day’s 
work  in  such  a beautiful  frame  of  mind. 

At  breakfast  he  spoke  to  her  about  it,  and  told  her  how 
pleased  he  was. 

“Oh,”  she  replied,  “that’s  the  hymn  I boil  the  eggs  by;  three 
verses  for  soft  and  five  for  hard.” 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


447 


There  was  a young  woman  named  Sue, 

Who  wanted  to  catch  the  2 102 ; 

Said  the  trainman,  “Don’t  hurry 
Or  flurry  or  worry; 

It’s  a minute  or  two  to  2:02.” 

Father — “Mildred,  if  you  disobey  again  I will  surely  spank 
you/’ 

On  father’s  return  home  that  evening,  Mildred  once  more 
acknowledged  that  she  had  again  disobeyed. 

Father  (firmly) — “You  are  going  to  be  spanked.  You  may 
choose  your  own  time.  When  shall  it  be?” 

Mildred  (five  years  old,  thoughtfully) — “Yesterday.” 

A northerner  passing  a rundown  looking  place  in  the  South, 
stopped  to  chat  with  the  farmer.  He  noticed  the  hogs  running 
wild  and  explained  that  in  the  North  the  farmers  fattened  their 
hogs  much  faster  by  shutting  them  in  and  feeding  them  well. 

“Hell !”  replied  the  southerner,  “What’s  time  to  a hog.” 

Dost  thou  love  life?  Then  waste  not  time;  for  time  is 
the  stuff  that  life  is  made  of. — Benjamin  Franklin. 

Time  fleeth  on, 

Youth  soon  is  gone, 

Naught  earthly  may  abide; 

Life  seemeth  fast, 

But  may  not  last — 

It  runs  as  runs  the  tide. 

— Leland. 


See  also  Scientific  management. 

TIPS 

American  travelers  in  Europe  experience  a great  deal  of 
trouble  from  the  omnipresent  need  of  tipping  those  from  whom 
they  expect  any  service,  however  slight.  They  are  very  apt  to 
carry  it  much  too  far,  or  else  attempt  to  resist  it  altogether. 
There  is  a story  told  of  a wealthy  and  ostentatious  American 


448 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


in  a Parisian  restaurant.  As  the  waiter  placed  the  order  before 
him  he  said  in  a loud  voice : 

“Waiter,  what  is  largest  tip  you  ever  received  ?” 

“One  thousand  francs,  monsieur.” 

“Eh  bien!  But  I will  give  you  two  thousand,”  answered  the 
upholder  of  American  honor ; and  then  in  a moment  he  added : 
“May  I ask  who  gave  you  the  thousand  francs?” 

“It  was  yourself,  monsieur,”  said  the  obsequious  waiter. 

Of  quite  an  opposite  mode  of  thought  was  another  Amer- 
ican visiting  London  for  the  first  time.  Goaded  to  desperation 
by  the  incessant  necessity  for  tips,  he  finally  entered  the  wash- 
room of  his  hotel,  only  to  be  faced  with  a large  sign  which 
read : “Please  tip  the  basin  after  using.”  “I’m  hanged  if  I 
will!”  said  the  Yankee,  turning  on  his  heel,  *T11  go  dirty  first!” 

Grant  Allen  relates  that  he  was  sitting  one  day  under  the 
shade  of  the  Sphinx,  turning  for  some  petty  point  of  detail  to 
his  Baedeker. 

A sheik  looked  at  him  sadly,  and  shook  his  head.  “Murray 
good,”  he  said  in  a solemn  voice  of  warning;  “Baedeker  no 
good.  What  for  you  see  Baedeker?” 

“No,  no;  Baedeker  is  best,”  answered  Mr.  Allen.  “Why  do 
you  object  to  Baedeker?” 

The  shiek  crossed  his  hands,  and  looked  down  at  him  with 
the  pitying  eyes  of  Islam.  “Baedeker  bad  book,”  he  repeated; 
“Murray  very,  very  good.  Murray  say,  ‘Give  the  sheik  half  a 
crown’ ; Baedeker  say,  ‘Give  the  sheik  a shilling.’  ” 

“What  do  you  consider  the  most  important  event  in  the 
history  of  Paris?” 

“Well,”  replied  the  tourist,  who  had  grown  weary  of  dis- 
tributing tips,  “so  far  as  financial  prosperity  is  concerned,  I 
should  say  the  discovery  of  America  was  the  making  of  this 
town.” 

In  telling  this  one,  Miss  Glaser  always  states  that  she  does 
not  want  it  understood  that  she  considers  the  Scotch  people 
at  all  stingy;  but  they  are  a very  careful  and  thrifty  race. 

An  intimate  friend  of  her’s  was  very  anxious  to  have  a 
well  known  Scotchman  meet  Miss  Glaser,  and  gave  her  a 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


449 


letter  of  introduction  to  him.  Miss  Glaser,  wishing  to  show  him 
all  the  attention  possible,  invited  him  to  a dinner  which  she 
was  giving  in  London  and  after  rather  an  elaborate  repast  the 
bill  was  paid,  the  waiter  returning  five  shillings.  She  let  it  lie, 
intending,  of  course,  to  give  it  to  the  waiter.  The  Scotchman 
glanced  at  the  money  very  frequently,  and  finally  he  said,  his 
natural  thrift  getting  the  best  of  him : 

“Are  you  going  to  give  all  that  to  the  waiter  ?” 

In  a inimitable  way,  Miss  Glaser  quietly  replied : 

“No,  take  some.” 

“A  tip  is  a small  sum  of  money  you  give  to  somebody  be- 
cause you’re  afraid  he  won’t  like  not  being  paid  for  something 
you  haven’t  asked  him  to  do.” — The  Bailie,  Glasgow. 

TITLES  OF  HONOR  AND  NOBILITY 

An  English  lord  was  traveling  through  this  country  with 
a small  party  of  friends.  At  a farmhouse  the  owner  invited 
the  party  in  to  supper.  The  good  housewife,  while  preparing 
the  table,  discovering  she  was  entertaining  nobility,  was  near- 
ly overcome  with  surprise  and  elation. 

While  seated  at  the  table  scarcely  a moment’s  peace  did  she 
grant  her  distinguished  guest  in  her  endeavor  to  serve  and 
please  him.  It  was  “My  Lord,  will  you  have  some  of  this?” 
and  “My  Lord,  do  try  that,”  “Take  a piece  of  this,  my  Lord,” 
until  the  meal  was  nearly  finished. 

The  little  four-year-old  son  of  the  family,  heretofore  un- 
noticed, during  a moment  of  supreme  quiet  saw  his  lordship 
trying  to  reach  the  pickle-dish,  which  was  just  out  of  his 
reach,  and  turning  to  his  mother  said : 

“Say,  Ma,  God  wants  a pickle.” 

Dean  Stanley  was  once  visiting  a friend  who  gave  one  of 
the  pages  strict  orders  that  in  the  morning  he  was  to  go  and 
knock  at  the  Dean’s  door,  and  when  the  Dean  inquired  who 
was  knocking  he  was  to  say:  “The  boy,  my  Lord.”  According 
to  directions  he  knocked  and  the  Dean  asked:  “Who  is  there?” 
Embarrassed  by  the  voice  of  the  great  man  the  page  answered: 
“The  Lord,  my  boy.” 


450 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


“How  did  he  get  his  title  of  colonel  ?” 

“He  got  it  to  distinguish  him  from  his  wife's  first  husband, 
who  was  a captain,  and  his  wife's  second  husband,  who  was 
a major.” 


For  titles  do  not  reflect  honor  on  men,  but  rather  men  on 
their  titles. — Machiavelli. 


I hope  I shall  always  possess  firmness  and  virtue  enough 
to  maintain  what  I consider  the  most  enviable  of  all  titles, 
the  character  of  an  “Honest  Man.” — George  Washington. 


TOASTS 

See  Drinking;  Good  fellowship;  Woman. 


TOBACCO 

“Tobaccy  wanst  saved  my  life,”  said  Paddy  Blake,  an  in- 
veterate smoker.  “How  was  that?”  inquired  his  companion. 
“Ye  see,  I was  diggin’  a well,  and  came  up  for  a good  smoke, 
and  while  I was  up  the  well  caved  in.” 

See  also  Smoking. 


TOURISTS 


See  Liars;  Travelers. 

TRADE  UNIONS 

Chairman  of  the  Committee — “Is  this  the  place  where  you 
are  happy  all  the  time?” 

St.  Peter  (proudly) — “It  is,  sir.” 

“Well,  I represent  the  union,  and  if  we  come  in  we  can  only 
agree  to  be  happy  eight  hours  a day. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


45i 


TRAMPS 

Lady — “Can’t  you  find  work?” 

Tramp — “Yessum;  but  everyone  wants  a reference  from  my 
last  employer.” 

Lady — “And  can’t  you  get  one?” 

Tramp — “No,  mum.  Yer  see,  he’s  been  dead  twenty-eight 
years.” 


TRANSMUTATION 

Fred  Stone,  of  Montgomery  and  Stone  fame,  and  Eugene 
Wood,  whose  stories  and  essays  are  well  known,  met  on  Broad- 
way recently.  They  stopped  for  a moment  to  exchange  a few 
cheerful  views,  when  a woman  in  a particularly  noticeable 
sheath-gown  passed.  Simultaneously,  Wood  turned  to  Stone; 
Stone  turned  to  Wood ; then  both  turned  to  rubber. 

TRAVELERS 

An  American  tourist,  who  was  stopping  in  Tokio  had  visited 
every  point  of  interest  and  hed  seen  everything  to  be  seen  ex- 
cept a Shinto  funeral.  Finally  she  appealed  to  the  Japanese 
clerk  of  the  hotel,  asking  him  to  instruct  her  guide  to  take 
her  to  one.  The  clerk  was  politeness  itself.  He  bowed  gravely 
and  replied : “I  am  very  sorry,  Madam,  but  this  is  not  the 
season  for  funerals.” 

A gentleman  whose  travel-talks  are  known  throughout  the 
world  tells  the  folowing  on  himself: 

“I  was  booked  for  a lecture  one  night  at  a little  place  in 
Scotland  four  miles  from  a railway  station. 

“The  ‘chairman’  of  the  occasion,  after  introducing  me  as  ‘the 
mon  wha’s  coom  here  tae  broaden  oor  intellects,’  said  that  he 
felt  a wee  bit  of  prayer  would  not  be  out  of  place. 

“ ‘O  Lord,’  he  continued,  ‘put  it  intae  the  heart  of  this  mon 
tae  speak  the  truth,  the  hale  truth,  and  naething  but  the  truth, 
and  gie  us  grace  tae  understan5  him.’ 

“Then,  with  a glance  at  me,  the  chairman  said,  ‘I’ve  been 
a traveler  meself!’” — Fenimore  Martin. 


452 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Two  young  Americans  touring  Italy  for  the  first  time 
stopped  off  one  night  at  Pisa,  where  they  fell  in  with  a con- 
vivial party  at  a cafe.  Going  hilariously  home  one  pushed 
the  other  against  a building  and  held  him  there. 

“Great  heavens !”  cried  the  man  next  the  wall,  suddenly 
glancing  up  at  the  structure  above  him.  “See  what  we’re 
doing!”  Both  roisterers  fled. 

They  left  town  on  an  early  morning  train,  not  thinking  it 
safe  to  stay  over  and  see  the  famous  leaning  tower. 

Mr.  Hiram  Jones  had  just  returned  from  a personally  con- 
ducted tour  of  Europe. 

“I  suppose,”  commented  a friend,  “that  when  you  were  in 
England  you  did  as  the  English  do  and  dropped  your  H’s.” 
“No,”  moodily  responded  the  returned  traveller;  “I  didn’t 
I did  as  the  Americans  do.  I dropped  my  V’s  and  X’s.” 
Then  he  slowly  meandered  down  to  the  bank  to  see  if  he 
couldn’t  get  the  mortgage  extended. — IV.  Hanny. 

A number  of  tourists  were  recently  looking  down  the  crater 
of  Vesuvius.  An  American  gentleman  said  to  his  companion  * 
“That  looks  a good  deal  like  the  infernal  regions.” 

An  English  lady,  overhearing  the  remark,  said  to  another: 

“Good  gracious ! How  these  Ameicans  do  travel.” 

An  American  tourist  hailing  from  the  west  was  out  sight- 
seeing in  London.  They  took  him  aboard  the  old  battle-ship 
Victory , which  was  Lord  Nelson’s  flagship  in  several  of  his 
most  famous  naval  triumphs.  An  English  sailor  escorted  the 
American  over  the  vessel,  and  coming  to  a raised  brass  tablet 
on  the  deck  he  said,  as  he  reverently  removed  his  hat : 

“’Ere,  sir,  is  the  spot  where  Lord  Nelson  fell” 

“Oh,  is  it?”  replied  the  American,  blankly.  “Well,  that  ain’t 
nothin’.  I nearly  tripped  on  the  blame  thing  myself.” 

On  one  of  the  famous  scenic  routes  of  the  west  there  is  a 

brakeman  who  has  lost  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand. 

His  present  assignment  as  rear-end  brakeman  on  a passenger 
train  places  him  in  the  observation  car,  where  he  is  the  target 
for  an  almost  unceasing  fusillade  of  questions  from  tourists 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


453 


who  insist  upon  having  the  name,  and,  if  possible,  the  histofy, 
of  all  the  mountain  canons  and  points  of  interest  along  the 
route. 

One  especially  enthusiastic  lady  tourist  had  kept  up  her  Gat- 
tling  fire  of  questions  until  she  had  thoroughly  mastered  the 
geography  of  the  country.  Then  she  ventured  to  ask  the 
brakeman  how  he  had  lost  his  finger : 

“Cut  off  in  making  a coupling  between  cars,  I suppose  ?” 

“No,  madam;  I wore  that  finger  off  pointing  out  scenery  to 
tourists.” 

Know  most  of  the  rooms  of  thy  native  country  before  thou 
goest  over  the  threshold  thereof. — Fuller. 

When  I was  at  home,  I was  in  a better  place;  but  travel- 
ers must  be  content. — Shakespeare. 

As  the  Spanish  proverb  says,  “He  who  would  bring  home 
the  wealth  of  the  Indies  must  carry  the  wealth  of  the  Indies 
with  him.”  So  it  is  in  traveling:  a man  must  carry  knowledge 
with  him,  if  he  would  bring  home  knowledge. — Samuel  John- 
son. 


TREASON 

It  was  during  the  Parnell  agitation  in  Ireland  that  an  anti- 
Parnellite,  criticising  the  ways  of  tenants  in  treating  absentee 
landlords,  exclaimel  to  Archbishop  Ryan  of  Philadelphia:  “Why, 
it  looks  very  much  like  treason.” 

Instantly  came  the  answer  in  the  Archbishop’s  best  brogue : 
“Sure,  treason  is  reason  when  there’s  an  absent  V.” 

Treason  doth  never  prosper:  what’s  the  reason? 

Why  if  it  prosper,  none  dare  call  it  treason. 

TREES 

Curious  Charley — “Do  nuts  grow  on  trees,  father?” 
Father — “They  do,  my  son.” 


454 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Curious  Charley — “Then  what  tree  does  the  doughnut  grow 
on?” 

Father — “The  pantry,  my  son.” 

TRIGONOMETRY 

A prisoner  was  brought  before  a police  magistrate.  He 
looked  around  and  discovered  that  his  clerk  was  absent.  “Here, 
officer,”  he  said,  “what’s  this  man  charged  with?” 

“Bigotry,  your  Honor,”  replied  the  policeman.  “He’s  got 
three  wives.” 

The  magistrate  looked  at  the  officer  as  though  astounded 
at  such  ignorance.  “Why,  officer,”  he  said,  “that’s  not  bigotry— 
that’s  trigonometry.” 


TROUBLE 

“What  is  the  trouble,  wifey?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Yes,  there  is.  What  are  you  crying  about,  something 
that  happened  at  home  or  something  that  happened  in  a 
novel?” 

It  was  married  men’s  night  at  the  revival  meeting. 

“Let  all  you  husbands  who  have  troubles  on  your  minds 
stand  up !”  shouted  the  preacher  at  the  height  of  his  spasm. 

Instantly  every  man  in  the  church  arose  except  one. 

“Ah !”  exclaimed  the  preacher,  peering  out  at  this  lone  in- 
dividual, who  occupied  a chair  near  the  door.  “You  are  one 
in  a million.” 

“It  ain’t  that,”  piped  back  this  one  helplessly  as  the  rest  of 
the  congregation  gazed  suspiciously  at  him : “I  can’t  get  up — 
I’m  paralyzed !” 

Judge — “Your  innocence  is  proved.  You  are  acquitted.” 

Prisoner  (to  the  jury) — “Very  sorry,  indeed,  gentlemen,  to 
have  given  you  all  this  trouble  for  nothing.” 

A friend  of  mine,  returning  to  his  home  in  Virginia  after 
several  years’  absence,  met  one  of  the  old  negroes,  a former 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


455 


servant  of  his  family.  “Uncle  Moses,”  he  said,  “I  hear  you 
got  married.” 

“Yes,  Marse  Tom,  I is,  and  I’s  having  a moughty  trouble- 
some time,  Marse  Tom,  moughty  troublesome.” 

“What’s  the  trouble?”  said  my  friend. 

“Why,  dat  yaller  woman,  Marse  Tom.  She  all  de  time  axin’ 
me  fer  money.  She  don’t  give  me  no  peace.” 

“How  long  have  you  been  married,  Uncle  Moses?” 

“Nigh  on  ter  two  years,  come  dis  spring.” 

“And  how  much  money  have  you  given  her?” 

“Well,  I ain’t  done  gin  her  none  yit.” — Sue  M.  M.  Halsey. 


If  you  want  to  forget  all  your  other  troubles,  wear  tight 
shoes. 


Never  bear  more  than  one  kind  of  trouble  at  a time.  Some 
people  bear  three — all  they  have  had,  all  they  have  now,  and 
all  they  expect  to  have. — Edward  Everett  Hale. 


TRUSTS 

A trust  is  known  by  the  companies  it  keeps. — Ellis  O.  Jones. 

Tompkins — “Ventley  has  received  a million  dollars  for  his 
patent  egg  dating  machine.  You  know  it  is  absolutely  inter- 
ference-proof, and  dates  correctly  and  indelibly  as  the  egg  is 
being  laid.” 

Dewley — “Is  the  machine  on  the  market  yet?” 

Tomkins — “Oh,  my  no!  and  it  won’t  be  on  the  market.  The 
patent  was  bought  by  the  Cold  Storage  Trust.” 

TRUTH 

There  was  a young  lady  named  Ruth, 

Who  had  a great  passion  for  truth. 

She  said  she  would  die 
Before  she  would  lie, 

And  she  died  in  the  prime  of  her  youth. 


456 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


Women  do  not  really  like  to  deceive  their  husbands,  but 
they  are  too  tender-hearted  to  make  them  unhappy  by  telling 
them  the  truth. 

Nature  . . . has  buried  truth  deep  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

— Democritus . 

’Tis  strange — but  true;  for  truth  is  always  strange, 
Stranger  than  fiction. 

— Byron. 


Turkeys 

“Ah,”  says  the  Christmas  guest.  “How  I wish  I could  sit 
down  to  a Christmas  dinner  with  one  of  those  turkeys  we 
raised  on  the  farm,  when  I was  a boy,  as  the  central  figure !” 
“Well,”  says  the  host,  “you  never  can  tell.  This  may  be 
one  of  them.” — Life. 


TUTORS 

A tutor  who  tooted  a flute 

Tried  to  teach  two  young  tooters  to  toot. 

Said  the  two  to  the  tutor, 

“Is  it  harder  to  toot,  or 
To  tutor  two  tutors  to  toot?” 

— Carolyn  Wells. 


TWINS 

“Faith,  Mrs.  O’Hara,  how  d’  ye  till  thim  twins  aparrt?” 
“Aw,  9t  is  aisy — I sticks  me  finger  in  Dinnis’s  mouth,  an’ 
if  he  bites  I know  it’s  Moike.” — Harvard  Lampoon. 


UMBRELLAS 

A man  left  his  umbrella  in  the  stand  in  a hotel  recently, 
with  a card  bearing  the  following  inscription  attached  to  it : 
“This  umbrella  belongs  to  a man  who  can  deal  a blow  of  250 
pounds  weight.  I shall  be  back  in  ten  minutes.”  On  return- 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


45  7 


in g to  seek  his  property  he  found  in  its  place  a card  thus  in- 
scribed : “This  card  was  left  here  by  a man  who  can  run  twelve 
miles  an  hour.  I shall  not  be  back.” 

A reputable  citizen  had  left  four  umbrellas  to  be  repaired.  At 
noon  he  had  luncheon  in  a restaurant,  and  as  he  was  depart- 
ing he  absent-mindedly  started  to  take  an  umbrella  from  a hook 
near  his  hat. 

“That’s  mine,  sir,”  said  a woman  at  the  next  table. 

He  apologized  and  went  out.  When  he  was  going  home 
in  a street  car  with  his  four  repaired  umbrellas,  the  woman  he 
had  seen  in  the  restaurant  got  in.  She  glanced  from  him  to  his 
umbrellas  and  said: 

“I  see  you  had  a good  day.” 

“That’s  a swell  umbrella  you  carry.” 

“Isn’t  it?” 

“Did  you  come  by  it  honestly?” 

“I  haven’t  quite  figured  out.  It  started  to  rain  the  other  day 
and  I stepped  into  a doorway  to  wait  till  it  stopped.  Then  I saw 
a young  fellow  coming  along  with  a nice  large  umbrella,  and 
I thought  if  he  was  going  as  far  as  my  house  I would  beg  the 
shelter  of  his  umbershoot.  So  I stepped  out  and  asked : ‘Where 
are  you  going  with  that  umbrella,  young  fellow?’ and  he  dropped 
the  umbrella  and  ran.” 

One  day  a man  exhibited  a handsome  umbrella.  “It’s  won- 
derful how  I make  things  last,”  he  exclaimed.  “Look  at  this 
umbrella,  now.  I bought  it  eleven  years  ago.  Since  then  I 
had  it  recovered  twice.  I had  new  ribs  put  in  in  1910,  and  last 
month  I exchanged  it  for  a new  one  in  a restaurant.  And  here 
it  is — as  good  as  new.” 


VALUE 

“The  trouble  with  father,”  said  the  gilded  youth,  “is  that  he 
has  no  idea  of  the  value  of  money.” 

“You  don’t  mean  to  imply  that  he  is  a spendthrift?” 

“Not  at  all.  But  he  puts  his  money  away  and  doesn’t  ap- 
pear to  have  any  appreciation  of  all  the  things  he  might  buy 
with  it.” 


458 


TO  ASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


VANITY 

McGorry — ‘Til  buy  yez  no  new  hat,  d’  yez  moind  thot?  Ye 
are  vain  enough  ahlriddy.” 

Mrs.  McGorry — “Me  vain?  Oi’m  not!  Shure,  Oi  don’t  t’ink 
mesilf  half  as  good  lookin’  as  Oi  am.” 

“Of  course,”  said  a suffragette  lecturer,  “I  admit  that  wom- 
en are  vain  and  men  are  not.  There  are  a thousand  proofs 
that  this  is  so.  Why,  the  necktie  of  the  handsomest  man  in 
the  room  is  even  now  up  the  back  of  his  collar.”  There  were 
six  men  present  and  each  of  them  put  his  hand  gently  behind 
his  neck. 


A New  York  woman  of  great  beauty  called  one  day  upon 
a friend,  bringing  with  her  her  eleven-year-old  daughter,  who 
gives  promise  of  becoming  as  great  a beauty  as  her  mother. 

It  chanced  that  the  callers  were  shown  into  a room  where 
the  friend  had  been  receiving  a milliner,  and  there  were  sev- 
eral beautiful  hats  lying  about.  During  the  conversation  the 
little  girl  amused  herself  by  examining  the  milliner’s  creations. 
Of  the  number  that  she  tried  on,  she  seemed  particularly 
pleased  with  a large  black  affair  which  set  off  her  light  hair 
charmingly.  Turning  to  her  mother,  the  little  girl  said: 

“I  look  just  like  you  now,  Mother,  don’t  I?” 

“’Sh!”  cautioned  the  mother,  with  uplifted  finger.  “Don’t 
be  vain,  dear.” 

That  which  makes  the  vanity  of  others  unbearable  to  us 
is  that  which  wounds  our  own. — La  Rochefoucauld . 

VERSATILITY 

A clergyman  who  advertised  for  an  organist  received  this 
reply : 

“Dear  Sir: 

“I  notice  you  have  a vacancy  for  an  organist  and  music 
teacher,  either  lady  or  gentleman.  Having  been  both  for  sev- 
eral years  I beg  to  apply  for  the  position.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


459 


VOICE 

A lanky  country  youth  entered  the  crossroads  general  store  to 
order  some  groceries.  He  was  seventeen  years  old  and  was  pas- 
sing through  that  stage  of  adolescence  during  which  a boy  seems 
all  hands  and  feet,  and  his  vocal  organs,  rapidly  developing, 
are  wont  to  cause  his  voice  to  undergo  sudden  and  involuntary 
changes  from  high  treble  to  low  bass. 

In  an  authoritative  rumbling  bass  voice  he  demanded  of  the 
busy  clerk,  “Give  me  a can  of  corn”  (then,  his  voice  suddenly 
changing  to  a shrill  falsetto,  he  continued)  “and  a sack  of 
flour.” 

“Well,  don’t  be  in  a hurry.  I can’t  wait  on  both  of  you 
at  once,”  snapped  the  clerk. 

Aspiring  Vocalist — “Professor,  do  you  think  I will  ever  be 
able  to  do  anything  with  my  voice?” 

Perspiring  Teacher — “Well  it  might  come  in  handy  in  case 
of  fire  or  shipwreck.” — Cornell  Widow. 

The  devil  hath  not,  in  all  his  quiver’s  choice, 

An  arrow  for  the  heart  like  a sweet  voice. 

— Byron. 


WAGES 

“Me  gotta  da  good  job,”  said  Pietro,  as  he  gave  the  mon- 
key a little  more  line  after  grinding  out  on  his  organ  a selec- 
tion from  “Santa  Lucia.”  “Getta  forty  dollar  da  month  and 
eata  myself ; thirty  da  month  if  da  boss  eata  me.” 

Commenting  on  the  comparatively  small  salaries  allowed 
by  Congress  for  services  rendered  in  the  executive  branch  of 
the  Government  and  the  more  liberal  pay  of  some  of  the  offi- 
cials, a man  in  public  life  said: 

“It  reminds  me  of  the  way  a gang  of  laborers  used  to  be 
paid  down  my  way.  The  money  was  thrown  at  a ladder,  and 
what  stuck  to  the  rungs  went  to  the  workers,  while  that  which 
fell  through  went  to  the  bosses.” 


460 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


A certain  prominent  lawyer  of  Toronto  is  in  the  habit  of 
lecturing  his  office  staff  from  the  junior  partner  down,  and 
Tommy,  the  office  boy,  comes  in  for  his  full  share  of  the  ad- 
monition. That  his  words  were  appreciated  was  made  evident 
to  the  lawyer  by  a conversation  between  Tommy  and  another 
office  boy  on  the  same  floor  which  he  recently  overheard. 

“Wotcher  wages?”  asked  the  other  boy. 

“Ten  thousand  a year,”  replied  Tommy. 

“Aw,  g’wan!” 

“Sure,”  insisted  Tommy,  unabashed.  “Four  dollars  a week 
in  cash,  an’  de  rest  in  legal  advice.” 

While  an  Irishman  was  gazing  in  the  window  of  a Wash- 
ington bookstore  the  following  sign  caught  his  eye: 

Dickens’  Works 

ALL  THIS  WEEK  FOR 
ONLY  $4.00 

“The  divvle  he  does!”  exclaimed  Pat  in  disgust.  “The  dirty 
scab !” 

The  difference  between  wages  and  salary  is — when  you  re- 
ceive wages  you  save  two  dollars  a month,  when  you  receive 
salary  you  borrow  two  dollars  a month. 

He  is  well  paid  that  is  well  satisfied. — Shakespeare. 

The  ideal  social  state  is  not  that  in  which  each  gets  an 
equal  amount  of  wealth,  but  in  which  each  gets  in  proportion 
to  his  contribution  to  the  general  stock. — Henry  George. 

WAITERS 

Recipe  for  a waiter: 

Stuff  a hired  dress-suit  case  with  an  effort  to  please, 

Add  a half-dozen  stumbles  and  trips; 

Remove  his  right  thumb  from  the  cranberry  sauce, 

Roll  in  crumbs,  melted  butter  and  tips. 


— Life. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


461 


WAR 

“Flag  of  truce,  Excellency.” 

“Well,  what  do  the  revolutionists  want?” 

“They  would  like  to  exchange  a couple  of  Generals  for  a 
can  of  condensed  milk.” 


If  you  favor  war,  dig  a trench  in  your  backyard,  fill  it  half 
full  of  water,  crawl  into  it,  and  stay  there  for  a day  or  two 
without  anything  to  eat,  get  a lunatic  to  shoot  at  you  with  a 
brace  of  revolvers  and  a machine  gun,  and  you  will  have  some- 
thing just  as  good,  and  you  will  save  your  country  a great  deal 
of  expense. 

“Who  are  those  people  who  are  cheering?”  asked  the  recruit 
as  the  soldiers  marched  to  the  train. 

“Those,”  replied  the  veteran,  “are  the  people  who  are  not 
going.” — Puck. 


He  who  did  well  in  war,  just  earns  the  right 
To  begin  doing  well  in  peace. 

— Robert  Broivning. 

A great  and  lasting  war  can  never  be  supported  on  this 
principle  [patriotism]  alone.  It  must  be  aided  by  a prospect  of 
interest,  or  some  reward. — George  Washington. 

See  also  Arbitration,  International;  European  War. 
WARNINGS 

Pietro  had  drifted  down  to  Florida  and  was  working  with 
a gang  at  railroad  construction.  He  had  been  told  to  beware 
of  rattlesnakes,  but  assured  that  they  would  always  give  the 
warning  rattle  before  striking. 

One  hot  day  he  was  eating  his  noon  luncheon  on  a pine 
log  when  he  saw  a big  rattler  coiled  a few  feet  in  front  of 


462 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


him.  He  eyed  the  serpent  and  began  to  lift  his  legs  over  the 
log.  He  had  barely  got  them  out  of  the  way  when  the  snake’s 
fangs  hit  the  bark  beneath  him. 

“Son  of  a guna!”  yelled  Pietro.  “Why  you  no  ringa  da 
bell  ?” 

WASHINGTON,  GEORGE 

A Barnegat  schoolma’am  had  been  telling  her  pupils  some- 
thing about  George  Washington,  and  finally  she  asked: 

“Can  any  one  now  tell  me  which  Washington  was — a great 
general  or  a great  admiral?” 

The  small  son  of  a fisherman  raised  his  hand,  and  she  sig- 
naled him  to  speak. 

“He  was  a great  general,”  said  the  boy.  “I  seen  a pic- 
ture of  him  crossing  the  Delaware,  and  no  great  admiral 
would  put  out  from  shore  standing  up  in  a skiff.” 

A Scotsman  visiting  America  stood  gazing  at  a fine  statue  of 
George  Washington,  when  an  American  approached. 

“That  was  a great  and  good  man,  Sandy,”  said  the  American ; 
“a  lie  never  passed  his  lips.” 

“Weel,”  said  the  Scot,  “I  praysume  he  talked  through  his 
nose  like  the  rest  of  ye.” 

WASPS 

The  wasp  cannot  speak,  but  when  he  says  “Drop  it,”  in  his 
own  inimitable  way,  neither  boy  nor  man  shows  any  remark- 
able desire  to  hold  on. 


WASTE 

The  automobile  rushed  down  the  road — huge,  gigantic,  sub- 
lime. Over  the  fence  hung  the  woman  who  works  hard  and 
long— her  husband  is  at  the  cafe  and  she  has  thirteen  little 
ones.  (An  unlucky  number.)  Suddenly  upon  the  thirteenth 
came  the  auto,  unseeing,  slew  him,  and  hummed  on,  unknowing. 
The  woman  who  works  hard  and  long  rushed  forward  with 
hands,  hands  made  rough  by  toil,  upraised.  She  paused  and 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


463 


stood  inarticulate — a goddess,  a giantess.  Then  she  hurled  forth 
these  words  of  derision,  of  despair : “Mon  Dieu ! And  I’d  just 
washed  him!” — Literally  translated  from  Le  Sport  of  Paris . 

A Boston  physician  tells  of  the  case  of  a ten-year-old  boy, 
who,  by  reason  of  an  attack  of  fever,  became  deaf.  The  phy- 
sician could  afford  the  lad  but  little  relief,  so  the  boy  applied 
himself  to  the  task  of  learning  the  deaf-and-dumb  alphabet. 
The  other  members  of  his  family,  too,  acquired  a working 
knowledge  'of  the  alphabet,  in  order  that  they  might  converse 
with  the  unfortunate  youngster. 

During  the  course  of  the  next  few  months,  however,  Tom- 
my’s hearing  suddenly  returned  to  him,  assisted  no  doubt  by  a 
slight  operation  performed  by  the  physician. 

Every  one  was,  of  course,  delighted,  particularly  the  boy’s 
mother,  who  one  day  exclaimed: 

“Oh,  Tommy,  isn’t  it  delightful  to  talk  to  and  hear  us 
again?” 

“Yes,”  assented  Tommy,  but  with  a degree  of  hesitation; 
“but  here  we’ve  all  learned  the  sign  language,  and  we  can’t 
find  any  more  use  for  it!” 

WEALTH 

If  you  want  to  make  a living  you  have  to  work  for  it,  while 
if  you  want  to  get  rich  you  must  go  about  it  in  some  other 
way. 

The  traditional  fool  and  his  money  are  lucky  ever  to  have 
got  together  in  the  first  place. — Puck. 

He  that  is  proud  of  riches  is  a fool.  For  if  he  be  exalted 
above  his  neighbors  because  he  hath  more  gold,  how  much 
inferior  is  he  to  a gold  mine! — Jeremy  Taylor . 

WEATHER 

“How  did  you  find  the  weather  in  London  ?”  asked  the 
friend  of  the  returned  traveler. 

“You  don’t  have  to  find  the  weather  in  London,”  replied  the 
traveler.  “It  bumps  into  you  at  every  corner.” 


464 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


An  American  and  a Scotsman  were  discussing  the  cold  ex- 
perienced in  winter  in  the  North  of  Scotland. 

“Why,  it’s  nothing  at  all  compared  to  the  cold  we  have  in 
the  States,”  said  the  American.  “I  can  recollect  one  winter 
when  a sheep,  jumping  from  a hillock  into  a field,  became  sud- 
denly frozen  on  the  way,  and  stuck  in  the  air  like  a mass  of 
ice.” 

“But,  man,”  exclaimed  the  Scotsman,  “the  law  of  gravity 
wouldn’t  allow  that.” 

“I  know  that,”  replied  the  tale-pitcher.  “But  the  law  of 
gravity  was  frozen,  too !” 

Two  commercial  travelers,  one  from  London  and  one  from 
New  York,  were  discussing  the  weather  in  their  respective 
countries. 

The  Englishman  said  that  English  weather  had  one  great 
fault — its  sudden  changes. 

“A  person  may  take  a walk  one  day,”  he  said,  “attired  in 
a light  summer  suit,  and  still  feel  quite  warm.  Next  day  he 
needs  an  overcoat.” 

“That’s  nothing,”  said  the  American.  “My  two  friends, 
Johnson  and  Jones,  were  once  having  an  argument.  There 
were  eight  or  nine  iches  of  snow  on  the  ground.  The  argu- 
ment got  heated,  and  Johnson  picked  up  a snowball  and  threw 
it  at  Jones  from  a distance  of  not  more  than  five  yards.  Dur- 
ing the  transit  of  that  snowball,  believe  me  or  not,  as  you  like, 
the  weather  changed  and  became  hot  and  summer  like,  and 
Jones,  instead  of  being  hit  with  a snowball,  was — er — scalded 
with  hot  water!” 

Ex-President  Taft  on  one  of  his  trips  was  playing  golf  on  a 
western  links  when  he  noticed  that  he  had  a particularly  good 
caddie,  an  old  man  of  some  sixty  years,  as  they  have  on  the 
Scottish  links. 

“And  what  do  you  do  in  winter?”  asked  the  President. 

“Such  odd  jobs  as  I can  pick  up,  sir,”  replied  the  man. 

“Not  much  chance  for  caddying  then,  I suppose?”  asked 
the  President. 

“No,  sir,  there  is  not,”  replied  the  man  with  a great  deal 
of  warmth.  “When  there’s  no  frost  there’s  sure  to  be  snow, 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


465 


and  when  there’s  no  snow  there’s  frost,  and  when  there’s  neith- 
er there’s  sure  to  be  rain.  And  the  few  days  when  it’s  fine 
they’re  always  Sundays.” 

On  the  way  to  the  office  of  his  publishers  one  crisp  fall 
morning,  James  Whitcomb  Riley  met  an  unusually  large  num- 
ber of  acquaintances  who  commented  conventionally  upon  the 
fine  weather.  This  unremitting  applause  amused  him.  When 
greeted  at  the  office  with  “Nice  day,  Mr.  Riley,”  he  smiled 
broadly. 

“Yes,”  he  agreed.  “Yes,  I’ve  heard  it  very  highly  spoken 
of.” 


The  darky  in  question  had  simmered  in  the  heat  of  St.  Au- 
gustine all  his  life,  and  was  decoyed  by  the  report  that  colored 
men  could  make  as  much  as  $4  a day  in  Duluth. 

He  headed  North  in  a seersucker  suit  and  into  a hard  winter. 
At  Chicago,  while  waiting  for  a train,  he  shivered  in  an  engine 
room,  and  on  the  way  to  Duluth  sped  by  miles  of  snow  fields. 

On  arriving  he  found  the  mercury  at  18  below  and  promptly 
lost  the  use  of  his  hands.  Then  his  feet  stiffened  and  he  lost 
all  sensation. 

They  picked  him  up  and  took  him  to  a crematory  for  un- 
known dead.  After  he  had  been  in  the  oven  for  awhile  some- 
body opened  the  door  for  inspection.  Rastus  came  to  and 
shouted : 

“Shut  dat  do’  and  close  dat  draff !” 


There  was  a small  boy  in  Quebec, 

Who  was  buried  in  snow  to  his  neck; 

When  they  said,  “Are  you  friz?” 

He  replied,  “Yes,  I is — 

But  we  don’t  call  this  cold  in  Quebec.” 

— Rudyard  Kipling. 

Sunshine  is  delicious,  rain  is  refreshing,  wind  braces  up, 
snow  is  exhilarating;  there  is  really  no  such  thing  as  bad  weath- 
er, only  different  kinds  of  good  weather. — Ruskin. 


466 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 

WEDDING  ANNIVERSARIES 


Uncle  Ephraim  had  put  on  a clean  collar  and  his  best  coat, 
and  was  walking  majestically  up  and  down  the  street. 

“Aren’t  you  working  to-day,  Uncle?”  asked  somebody. 

“No,  suh.  I’se  celebrating’  mah  golden  weddin’  suh.” 

“You  were  married  fifty  years  ago  to-day,  then !” 

“Yes,  suh.” 

“Well,  why  isn’t  your  wife  helping  you  to  celebrate?” 

“Mah  present  wife,  suh,”  replied  Uncle  Ephraim  with  dig- 
nity, “ain’t  got  nothin’  to  do  with  it.” 

WEDDING  PRESENTS 

Among  the  presents  lately  showered  upon  a dusky  bride  in  a 
rural  section  of  Virginia,  was  one  that  was  a gift  of  an  old 
woman  with  whom  both  bride  and  groom  were  great  favor- 
ites. 

Some  time  ago,  it  appears,  the  old  woman  accumulated  a 
supply  of  cardboard  mottoes,  which  she  worked  and  had  framed 
as  occasion  arose. 

So  it  happened  that  in  a neat  combination  of  blues  and 
reds,  suspended  by  a cord  of  orange,  there  hung  over  the  table 
whereon  the  other  presents  were  displayed  for  the  delectation 
of  the  wedding  guests,  this  motto : 

FIGHT  ON;  FIGHT  EVER. 

WEDDINGS 

An  actor  who  was  married  recently  for  the  third  time,  and 
whose  bride  had  been  married  once  before,  wrote  across  the 
bottom  of  the  wedding  invitations : “Be  sure  and  come ; this  is 
no  amateur  performance.” 

A wealthy  young  woman  from  the  west  was  recently  wedded 
to  a member  of  the  nobility  of  England,  and  the  ceremony  oc- 
curred in  the  most  fashionable  of  London  churches — St. 
George’s. 

Among  the  guests  was  a cousin  of  the  bride,  as  sturdy  an 
American  as  can  be  imagined.  He  gave  an  interesting  sum- 
mary of  the  wedding  when  asked  by  a girl  friend  whether  the 
marriage  was  a happy  one. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


467 


“Happy?  I should  say  it  was,”  said  the  cousin.  “The  bride 
was  happy,  her  mother  was  overjoyed,  Lord  Stickleigh,  the 
groom,  was  in  ecstasies,  and  his  creditors,  I understand,  were 
in  a state  of  absolute  bliss.” — Edwin  Tarrisse. 


The  best  man  noticed  that  one  of  the  wedding  guests,  a 
gloomy-looking  young  man,  did  not  seem  to  be  enjoying  him- 
self. He  was  wandering  about  as  though  he  had  lost  his 
last  friend.  The  best  man  took  it  upon  himself  to  cheer  him 
up. 

“Er — have  you  kissed  the  bride?”  he  asked  by  way  of  intro- 
duction. 

“Not  lately,”  replied  the  gloomy  one  with  a far-away  ex- 
pression. 

The  curate  of  a large  and  fashionable  church  was  endeavor- 
ing to  teach  the  significance  of  white  to  a Sunday-school  class. 

“Why,”  said  he,  “does  a bride  invariably  desire  to  be  clothed 
in  white  at  her  marriage?” 

As  no  one  answered,  he  explained.  “White,”  said  he,  “stands 
for  joy,  and  the  wedding-day  is  the  most  joyous  occasion  of 
a woman’s  life.” 

A small  boy  queried,  “Why  do  the  men  all  wear  black?” — 

M.  J.  Moor. 

Lilly  May  came  to  her  mistress.  “Ah  would  like  a week’s 
vacation,  Miss  Annie,”  she  said,  in  her  soft  negro  accent; 
“Ah  wants  to  be  married.” 

Lillie  had  been  a good  girl,  so  her  mistress  gave  her  the 
week’s  vacation,  a white  dress,  a veil  and  a plum-cake. 

Promptly  at  the  end  of  the  week  Lillie  returned,  radiant. 
“Oh,  Miss  Annie !”  she  exclaimed,  “Ah  was  the  mos’  lovely 
bride ! Ma  dr£ss  was  perfec’,  ma  veil  mos’  lovely,  the  cake 
mos’  good ! An’  oh,  the  dancin’  an’  the  eatin’ !” 

“Well,  Lillie,  this  sounds  delightful,”  said  her  mistress, 
“but  you  have  left  out  the  point  of  your  story — I hope  you 
have  a good  husband.” 

Lillie’s  tone  changed  to  indignation:  “Now,  Miss  Annie,  what 
yo’  think?  Tha’  darn  nigger  nebber  turn  up!” 


468 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


There  is  living  in  Illinois  a solemn  man  who  is  often  funny 
without  meaning  to  be.  At  the  time  of  his  wedding,  he  lived 
in  a town  some  distance  from  the  home  of  the  bride.  The 
wedding  was  to  be  at  her  house.  On  the  eventful  day  the  sol- 
emn man  started  for  the  station,  but  on  the  way  met  the  vil- 
lage grocer,  who  talked  so  entertainingly  that  the  bridegroom 
missed  his  train. 

Naturally  he  was  in  a “state.”  Something  must  be  done, 
and  done  quickly.  So  he  sent  the  following  telegram : 

Don’t  marry  till  I come. — Henry. 

— Howard  Morse. 

In  all  the  wedding  cake,  hope  is  the  sweetest  of  the  plums. 

— Douglas  Jerrold. 

WEIGHTS  AND  MEASURES 

“Didn’t  I tell  ye  to  feed  that  cat  a pound  of  meat  every 
day  until  ye  had  her  fat?”  demanded  an  Irish  shopkeeper, 
nodding  toward  a sickly,  emaciated  cat  that  was  slinking  through 
the  store. 

“Ye  did  thot,”  replied  the  assistant,  “an’  I’ve  just  been  after 
feedin’  her  a pound  of  meat  this  very  minute.” 

“Faith,  an’  I don’t  believe  ye.  Bring  me  the  scales.” 

The  poor  cat  was  lifted  into  the  scales.  Thy  balancd  at 
exactly  one  pound. 

“There !”  exclaimed  the  assistant  triumphantly.  “Didn’t  I 
tell  ye  she’d  had  her  pound  of  meat?” 

“That’s  right,”  admitted  the  boss,  scratching  his  head. 
“That’s  yer  pound  of  meat  all  right.  But” — suddenly  looking 
up — “where  the  divvil  is  the  cat?” 

WELCOMES 

When  Ex-Presilent  Taft  was  on  his  transcontinental  tour, 
American  flags  and  Taft  pictures  were  in  evidence  everywhere. 
Usually  the  Taft  pictures  contained  a word  of  welcome  under 
them.  Those  who  heard  the  President’s  laugh  ring  out  will  not 
soon  forget  the  western  city  which,  directly  under  the  barred 
window  of  the  city  lockup,  displayed  a Taft  picture  with  the 
legend  “Welcome”  on  it. — Hugh  Morist. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


469 


Come  in  the  evening,  or  come  in  the  morning, 

Come  when  you’re  looked  for,  or  come  without  warning, 
Kisses  and  welcome  you’ll  find  here  before  you, 

And  the  oftener  you  come  here  the  more  I’ll  adore  you. 

— Thomas  O.  Davis. 


WEST,  THE 

Eastern  Lady  (traveling  in  Montana) — “The  idea  of  calling 
this  the  ‘Wild-West’!  Why,  I never  saw  such  politeness  any- 
where.” 

Cowboy — “We’re  allers  perlite  to  ladies,  ma’am.” 

Eastern  Lady — “Oh,  as  for  that,  there  is  plenty  of  polite- 
ness everywhere.  But  I refer  to  the  men.  Why,  in  New  York 
the  men  behave  horribly  towards  one  another;  but  here  they 
treat  one  another  as  delicately  as  gentlemen  in  a drawing- 
room.” 

Cowboy — “Yes,  ma’am;  it’s  safer.” — Abbie  C.  Dixon. 
WHISKY 

This  is  from  an  Irish  priest’s  sermon,  as  quoted  in  Samuel 
M.  Hussey’s  “Reminiscences  of  an  Irish  Land  Agent” : “ ‘It’s 
whisky  makes  you  bate  your  wives;  it’s  whisky  makes  your 
homes  desolate ; it’s  whisky  makes  you  shoot  your  landlords, 
and’ — with  emphasis,  as  he  thumped  the  pulpit — ‘it’s  whisky 
makes  you  miss  them.’  ” 

In  a recent  trial  of  a “bootlegger”  in  western  Kentucky 
a witness  testified  that  he  had  purchased  some  “squirrel”  whis- 
ky from  the  defendant. 

“Squirrel  whisky?”  questioned  the  court. 

“Yes,  you  know:  the  kind  that  makes  you  talk  nutty  and 
want  to  climb  trees.” 

General  Carter,  who  went  to  Texas  in  command  of  the 
regulars  sent  south  for  maneuvers  along  the  Mexican  border, 
tells  this  story  of  an  old  Irish  soldier : The  march  had  been 
a long  and  tiresome  one,  and  as  the  bivouac  was  being  made 
for  the  night,  the  captain  noticed  that  Pat  was  looking  very 


470 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


much  fatigued.  Thinking  that  a small  drop  of  whisky  might 
do  him  good,  the  captain  called  Pat  aside  and  said,  “Pat,  will 
you  have  a wee  drink  of  whisky?”  Pat  made  no  answer,  but 
folded  his  arms  in  a reverential  manner  and  gazed  upward. 
The  captain  repeated  the  question  several  times,  but  no  an* 
swer  from  Pat,  who  stood  silent  and  motionless,  gazing  de- 
voutly into  the  sky.  Finally  the  captain,  taking  him  by  the 
shoulder  and  giving  him  a vigorous  shake  said:  “Pat,  why 
don’t  you  answer?  I said,  Tat,  will  you  have  a drink  of  whis- 
ky ?’  ” After  looking  around  in  considerable  astonishment  Pat 
replied:  “And  is  it  yez,  captain?  Begorrah  and  I thought  it 
was  an  angel  spakin’  to  me.” 

See  also  Drinking. 


WHISKY  BREATH 


See  Breath. 


WIDOWS 

During  the  course  of  conversation  between  two  ladies  in  a 
hotel  parlor  one  said  to  the  other:  “Are  you  married?” 

“No,  I am  not,”  replied  the  other.  “Are  you?” 

“No,”  wras  the  reply,  “I,  too,  am  on  the  single  list,”  adding: 
“Strange  that  two  such  estimable  women  as  ourselves  should 
have  been  overlooked  in  the  great  matrimonial  market!  Now 
that  lady,”  pointing  to  another  who  was  passing,  “has  been 
widowed  four  times,  two  of  her  husbands  having  been  cre- 
mated. The  woman,”  she  continued,  “is  plain  and  uninteresting, 
and  yet  she  has  them  to  burn.” 


WIND 

Visitor — “What  became  of  that  other  windmill  that  was 
here  last  year?” 

Native — “There  was  only  enough  wind  for  one,  so  we  took 
it  down.” 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


47i 


Whichever  way  the  wind  doth  blow 
Some  heart  is  glad  to  have  it  so ; 

Then  blow  it  east,  or  blow  it  west. 

The  wind  that  blows,  that  wind  is  best. 

— Caroline  A.  Mason. 

WINDFALLS 

A Nebraska  man  was  carried  forty  miles  by  a cyclone  and 
dropped  in  a widow’s  front  yard.  He  married  the  widow  and 
returned  home  worth  about  $30,000  more  than  when  he  started. 

WINE 

When  our  thirsty  souls  we  steep, 

Every  sorrow’s  lull’d  to  sleep. 

Talk  of  monarchs ! we  are  then 
Richest,  happiest,  first  of  men. 

When  I drink,  my  heart  refines 
And  rises  as  the  cup  declines ; 

Rises  in  the  genial  flow, 

That  none  but  social  spirits  know. 

To-day  we’ll  haste  to  quaff  our  wine, 

As  if  to-morrow  ne’er  should  shine; 

But  if  to-morrow  comes,  why  then — 

We’ll  haste  to  quaff  our  wine  again. 

Let  me,  oh,  my  budding  vine, 

Spill  no  other  blood  than  thine. 

Yonder  brimming  goblet  see, 

That  alone  shall  vanquish  me. 

I pray  thee,  by  the  gods  above, 

Give  me  the  mighty  bowl  I love, 

And  let  me  sing,  in  wild  delight. 

“I  will — I will  be  mad  to-night !” 


472 


TO  ASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


When  Father  Time  swings  round  his  scythe, 

Intomb  me  ’neath  the  bounteous  vine, 

So  that  its  juices  red  and  blythe, 

May  cheer  these  thirsty  bones  of  mine. 

— Eugene  Field . 


See  also  Drinking. 


WISHES 

George  Washington  drew  a long  sigh  and  said:  “Ah  wish 
Ah  had  a hundred  watermillions.” 

Dixie’s  eyes  lighted.  “Hum ! Dat  would  suttenly  be  fine ! 
An’  ef  yo’  had  a hundred  watermillions  would  yo’  gib  me 
fifty?” 

“No,  Ah  wouldn’t.” 

“Wouldn’t  yo’  give  me  twenty-five?” 

“No,  Ah  wouldn’t  gib  yo’  no  twenty-five.” 

Dixie  gaxed  with  reproachful  eyes  at  his  close-fisted  friend. 
“Seems  to  me,  you’s  powahful  stingy,  George  Washington,”  he 
said,  and  then  continued  in  a heartbroken  voice.  “Wouldn’t 
yo’  gib  me  one?” 

“No,  Ah  wouldn’t  gib  yo’  one.  Look  a’  heah,  nigger!  Are 
yo’  so  good  for  nuffen  lazy  dat  yo’  cahn’t  wish  fo’  yo’  own 
watermillions  ?” 


“Man  wants  but  little  here  below 
Nor  wants  that  little  long,” 

’Tis  not  with  me  exactly  so ; 

But  ’tis  so  in  the  song. 

My  wants  are  many,  and,  if  told, 

Would  muster  many  a score; 

And  were  each  a.  mint  of  gold, 

I still  should  long  for  more. 

— John  Quincy  Adams. 


WITNESSES 


“The  trouble  is,”  said  Wilkins  as  he  talked  the  matter  over 
with  his  counsel,  “that  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment  I ad- 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


473 


mitted  that  I had  been  going  too  fast,  and  wasn’t  paying  any 
attention  to  the  road  just  before  the  collision.  I’m  afraid 
that  admission  is  going  to  prove  costly.” 

'‘Don’t  wory  about  that,”  said  his  lawyer.  “I’ll  bring  seven 
witnesses  to  testify  that  they  wouldn’t  believe  you  under  oath.” 

On  his  eighty-fourth  birthday,  Paul  Smith,  the  veteran  Ad- 
irondock  hotel-keeper,  who  started  life  as  a guide  and  died 
owning  a million  dollars’  worth  of  forest  land,  was  talking 
about  boundary  disputes  with  an  old  friend. 

“Didn’t  you  hear  of  the  lawsuit  over  a title  that  I had 
with  Jones  down  in  Malone  last  summer?”  asked  Paul.  The 
friend  had  not  heard. 

“Well,”  said  Paul,  “it  was  this  way.  I sat  in  the  court 
room  before  the  case  opened  with  my  witnesses  around  me. 
Jones  busted  in,  stopped,  looked  my  witnesses  over  carefully,  and 
said:  ‘Paul,  are  those  your  witnesses?’  ‘They  are,’  said  I.  ‘Then 
you  win,’  said  he.  ‘I’ve  had  them  witnesses  twice  myself.’  ” 

WIVES 

“Father,”  said  a little  boy,  “had  Solomon  seven  hundred 
wives  ?” 

“I  believe  so,  my  son,”  said  the  father. 

“Well,  father,  was  he  the  man  who  said,  ‘Give  me  liberty 
or  give  me  death  ?’  ” — T own  T opics. 

A charitable  lady  was  reading  the  Old  Testament  to  an 
aged  woman  who  lived  at  the  home  for  old  people,  and  chanced 
upon  the  passage  concerning  Solomon’s  household. 

“Had  Solomon  really  seven  hundred  wives?”  inquired  the 
old  woman,  after  reflection. 

“Oh,  yes,  Mary!  It  is  so  stated  in  the  Bible.” 

“Lor’,  mum !”  was  the  comment.  “What  privileges  them 
early  Christians  had !” 

Casey — “Now,  phwat  wu’u’d  ye  do  in  a case  loike  thot?” 

Clancy — “Loike  phwat?” 

Casey — “Th’  walkin’  diligate  tils  me  to  stroike,  an’  me  ould 
woman  orders  me  to  ke-ape  on  wurrkin’.” 


474 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Governor  Vardaman,  of  Mississippi,  was  taken  to  task  be- 
cause he  had  made  a certain  appointment,  a friend  maintain- 
ing that  another  man  should  have  received  the  place.  The 
governor  listened  quietly  and  then  said: 

“Did  I ever  tell  you  about  Mose  Williams?  One  day  Mose 
sought  his  employer,  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  and  inquired: 
“‘Say,  boss,  is  yo’  gwine  to  town  t’morrer?’ 

“T  think  so.  Why?’ 

“ ‘Well,  hit’s  dishaway.  Me  an’  Easter  Johnson’s  gwine  to 
git  mahred,  an’  Ah  ’lowed  to  ax  yo’  ter  git  a pair  of  licenses 
fo’  me.” 

“I  shall  be  delighted  to  oblige  you,  Mose,  and  I hope  you 
will  be  very  happy.” 

“The  next  day  when  the  gentleman  rode  up  to  his  house 
the  old  man  was  waiting  for  him. 

“‘Did  you  git  ’em,  boss?”  he  inquired  eagerly. 

“ ‘Yes,  here  they  are.’ 

“Mose  looked  at  them  ruefully,  shaking  his  head.  ‘Ah’m 
po’ful  sorry  yo’  got  ’em,  boss!’ 

“ ‘Whats  the  matter?  Has  Easter  gone  back  on  you?’ 

“ ‘It  ain’t  dat,  boss.  Ah  done  changed  mah  min.’  Ah’m 
gwine  to  mahry  Sophie  Coleman,  dat  freckled-faced  yaller  girl 
what  works  up  to  Mis’  Mason’s,  for  she  sholy  can  cook!’ 

“Well,  I’ll  try  and  have  the  name  changed  for  you,  but 
it  will  cost  you  fifty  cents  more.’ 

“Mose  assented,  somewhat  dubiously,  and  the  gentleman  had 
the  change  made.  Again  he  found  Mose  waiting  for  him. 
“‘Wouldn’t  change  hit,  boss,  would  he?’ 

“ ‘Certainly  he  changed  it.  I simply  had  to  pay  him  the  fifty 
cents.’ 

“ ‘Ah  was  hopin’  he  wouldn’t  do  it.  Mah  min’s  made  up 
to  mahry  Easter  Johnson  after  all.’ 

“ ‘You  crazy  nigger,  you  don’t  know  what  you  do  want. 
What  made  you  change  your  mind  again?’ 

“‘Well,  boss,  Ah  been  thinkin’  it  over  an’  Ah  jes’  ’lowed 
dar  wasn’t  fifty  cents  wuth  ob  diff’runce  in  dem  two  niggers.’  ” 


A wife  is  a woman  who  is  expected  to  purchase  without 
means,  and  sew  on  buttons  before  they  come  off. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


475 


“What  are  you  cutting  out  of  the  paper  ?” 

“About  a California  man  securing  a divorce  because  his 
wife  went  through  his  pockets.” 

“What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?” 

“Put  it  in  my  pocket.” 

A woman  missionary  in  China  was  taking  tea  with  a man- 
darin’s eight  wives.  The  Chinese  ladies  examined  her  cloth- 
ing, her  hair,  her  teeth,  and  so  on,  but  her  feet  especially 
amazed  them. 

“Why,”  cried  one,  “you  can  walk  or  run  as  well  as  a man!” 
“Yes,  to  be  sure,”  said  the  missionary. 

“Can  you  ride  a horse  and  swim,  too?” 

“Yes.” 

Then  you  must  be  as  strong  as  a man!” 

“I  am.” 

“And  you  wouldn’t  let  a man  beat  you — not  even  if  he  was 
your  husband — would  you?” 

“Indeed  I wouldn’t,”  the  missionary  said. 

The  mandarin’s  eight  wives  looked  at  one  another,  nodding 
their  heads.  Then  the  oldest  said  softly: 

“Now  I understand  why  the  foreign  devil  never  has  more 
than  one  wife.  He  is  afraid!” — Western  Christian  Advocate. 

Pat — “I  hear  your  woife  is  sick,  Moike.” 

Mike — “She  is  thot.” 

Pat — “Is  it  dangerous  she  is?” 

Mike — “Divil  a bit.  She’s  too  weak  to  be  dangerous  any 
more !” 

Son — “Say,  mama,  father  broke  this  vase  before  he  went 
out.” 

Mother — “My  beautiful  majolica  vase!  Wait  till  he  comes 
back,  that’s  all.” 

Son — “May  I stay  up  till  he  does?” 

“Because  a fellow  has  six  talking  machines,”  said  the 
boarder  who  wants  to  be  an  end  man,  “it  doesn’t  follow  that  he 
is  a Mormon.” 


476 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


It  was  a wizened  little  man  who  appeared  before  the  judge 
and  charged  his  wife  with  cruel  and  abusive  treatment.  His 
better  half  was  a big,  square-jawed  woman  with  a determined 
eye. 

“In  the  first  place,  where  did  you  meet  this  woman  who, 
according  to  your  story,  has  treated  you  so  dreadfully  ?”  asked 
the  judge. 

“Well/’  replied  the  little  man,  making  a brave  attempt  to 
glare  defiantly  at  his  wife,  “I  never  did  meet  her.  She  just 
kind  of  overtook  me/’ 

“Harry,  love,”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Knowall  to  her  husband,  on 
his  return  one  evening  from  the  office,  “I  have  b-been  d-dread- 
fully  insulted !” 

“Insulted?”  exclaimed  Harry,  love.  “By  whom?” 

“B-by  your  m-mother,”  answered  the  young  wife,  bursting 
into  tears. 

“My  mother,  Flora?  Nonsense!  She's  miles  away!” 

Flora  dried  her  tears. 

“I’ll  tell  you  all  about  it,  Harry,  love,”  she  said.  “A  letter 
came  to  you  this  morning,  addressed  in  your  mother’s  writing, 
so,  of  course,  I — I opened  it.” 

“Of  course,”  repeated  Harry,  love,  dryly. 

“It — it  was  written  to  you  all  the  way  through.  Do  you 
understand?” 

“I  understand.  But  where  does  the  insult  to  you  come  in?” 

“It — it  came  in  the  p-p-postscript,”  cried  the  wife,  bursting 
into  fresh  floods  of  briny.  “It  s-said : ‘P-P-P.  S. — D-dear  Flora, 
d-don’t  f-fail  to  give  this  1-letter  to  Harry.  I w-want  him  to 
have  it.’  ” 

“By  jove,  I left  my  purse  under  the  pillow!” 

“Oh,  well,  your  servant  is  honest,  isn’t  she?” 

“That’s  just  it.  She’ll  take  it  to  my  wife.” 

There  swims  no  goose  so  gray,  but  soon  or  late 
She  finds  some  honest  gander  for  her  mate. 

— Pope. 


TOASTEii’S  HANDBOOK 


477 


A clerk  showed  forty  patterns  of  ginghams  to  a man  whose 
wife  had  sent  him  to  buy  some  for  her  for  Christmas,  and 
at  every  pattern  the  man  said:  “My  wife  said  she  didn’t  want 
anything  like  that/’ 

The  clerk  put  the  last  piece  back  on  the  shelf.  “Sir,”  he 
said,  “you  don’t  want  gingham.  What  you  want  is  a divorce.” 

Maids  are  May  when  they  are  maids,  but  the  sky  changes 
when  they  are  wives. — Shakespeare. 

In  the  election  of  a wife,  as  in 
A project  of  war,  to  err  but  once  is 
To  be  undone  forever. 

— Thomas  Middleton. 

Of  earthly  goods,  the  best  is  a good  wife; 

A bad,  the  bitterest  curse  of  human  life. 

— Simonides. 

See  also  Domestic  finance;  Suffragettes;  Talkers;  Temper; 
Woman  suffrage. 

WOMAN 

Woman — the  only  sex  which  attaches  more  importance  to 
what’s  on  its  head  than  to  what’s  in  it. 

“How  very  few  statues  there  are  of  real  women.” 

“Yes!  it’s  hard  to  get  them  to  look  right.” 

“How  so?” 

“A  woman  remaining  still  and  saying  nothing  doesn’t  seem 
true  to  life.” 

“Oh,  woman!  in  our  hours  of  ease 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please” — 

So  wrote  Sir  Walter  long  ago. 

But  how,  pray,  could  he  really  know? 

If  woman  fair  he  strove  to  please, 

Where  did  he  get  his  “hours  of  ease”? 

— George  B.  Morewood. 


478 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Miss  Scribble — “The  heroine  of  my  next  story  is  to  be  one 
of  those  modern  advanced  girls  who  have  ideas  of  their  own 
and  don’t  want  to  get  married.” 

The  Colonel  (politely) — “Ah,  indeed,  I don’t  think  I ever 
met  that  type.”— Life. 

You  are  a dear,  sweet  girl, 

God  bless  you  and  keep  you — 

Wish  I could  afford  to  do  so. 

Here’s  to  man — he  can  afford  anything  he  can  get.  Here’s 
to  woman — she  can  afford  anything  that  she  can  get  a man  to 
get  for  her. — George  Ade . 

Here’s  to  the  soldier  and  his  arms, 

Fall  in,  men,  fall  in ; 

Here’s  to  woman  and  her  arms, 

Fall  in,  men,  fall  in! 

; Most  Southerners  are  gallant.  An  exception  is  the  Georgian 
who  gave  his  son  this  advice : 

“My  boy,  never  run  after  a woman  or  a street  car — there 
will  be  another  one  along  in  a minute  or  two.” 

Here’s  to  the  maid  of  bashful  fifteen; 

Here’s  to  the  widow  of  fifty; 

Here’s  to  the  flaunting,  extravagant  queen; 

And  here’s  to  the  housewife  that’s  thrifty. 

Chorus : 

Let  the  toast  pass,— 

Drink  to  the  lass. 

I’ll  warrant  she’ll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

— Sheridan. 

Here’s  to  the  ladies,  the  good,  young  ladies; 

But  not  too  good,  for  the  good  die  young, 

And  we  want  no  dead  ones. 

And  here’s  to  the  good  old  ladles, 

' But  not  too  old,  for  we  want  no  dyed  ones. 


TOASTER’S  HANDBOOK 


479 


When  a woman  repulses,  beware.  When  a woman  beckons, 
bewarer. — Henriette  Corkland. 

The  young  woman  had  spent  a busy  day. 

She  had  browbeaten  fourteen  salespeople,  bullyragged  a 
floor-walker,  argued  victoriously  with  a milliner,  laid  down  the 
law  to  a modiste,  nipped  in  the  bud  a taxi  chauffeur's  attempt 
to  overcharge  her,  made  a street  car  conductor  stop  the  car 
in  the  middle  of  a block  for  her,  discharged  her  maid  and  en- 
gaged another,  and  otherwise  refused  to  allow  herself  to  be 
imposed  upon. 

Yet  she  did  not  smile  that  evening  when  a young  man 
begged : 

“Let  me  be  your  protector  through  life!" 

I am  very  fond  of  the  company  of  ladies.  I like  their 
beauty,  I like  their  delicacy,  I like  their  vivacity,  and  I like  their 
silence. — Samuel  Johnson. 

Auld  Nature  swears,  the  lovely  dears 
Her  noblest  work  she  classes,  O : 

Her  ’prentice  hand  she  tried  on  man, 

An’  then  she  made  the  lasses,  O. 

— Burns. 

Not  from  his  head  was  woman  took, 

As  made  her  husband  to  o’erlook; 

Not  from  his  feet,  as  one  designed 
The  footstool  of  the  stronger  kind; 

But  fashioned  for  himself,  a bride; 

An  equal,  taken  from  his  side. 

— Charles  Wesley. 

See  also  Mice;  Mothers;  Smoking;  Suffragettes;  Wives; 
Woman  suffrage. 

WOMAN  SUFFRAGE 

Woman  Voter — “Now,  I may  as  well  be  frank  with  you.  I 
absolutely  refuse  to  vote  the  same  ticket  as  that  horrid  Tones 


woman. 


480 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


Kate  Douglas  Wiggin  was  asked  recently  how  she  stood  on 
the  vote  for  women  question.  She  replied  she  didn’t  “stand  at 
all,”  and  told  a story  about  a New  England  farmer’s  wife  who 
had  no  very  romantic  ideas  about  the  opposite  sex,  and  who, 
hurrying  from  churn  to  sink,  from  sink  to  shed,  and  back  to 
the  kitchen  stove,  was  asked  if  she  wanted  to  vote.  “No,  I 
certainly  don’t!  I say  if  there’s  one  little  thing  that  the  men 
folks  can  do  alone,  for  goodness  sakes  let  ’em  do  it !”  she 
replied. 

Mr.  E.  N.  Quire — “What  are  those  women  mauling  that  man 
for?” 

Mrs.  Henballot — “He  insulted  us  by  saying  that  the  suf- 
frage movement  destroyed  our  naturally  timid  sweetness  and 
robbed  us  of  all  our  gentleness.” 

“Did  you  cast  your  vote,  Aunty?” 

“Oh,  yes!  Isn’t  it  grand?  A real  nice  gentleman  with  a 
beautiful  moustache  and  yellow  spats  marked  my  ballot  for 
me.  I know  I should  have  marked  it  myself,  but  it  seemed  to 
please  him  greatly.” 


“Does  your  wife  want  to  vote?” 

“No.  She  wants  a larger  town  house,  a villa  on  the  sea 
coast  and  a new  limousine  car  every  six  months.  I’d  be  pleased 
most  to  death  if  she  could  fix  her  attention  on  a smaller  matter 
like  the  vote.” 

“What  you  want,  I suppose,  is  to  vote,  just  like  the  men  do.” 

“Certainly  not,”  replied  Mrs.  Baring-Banners.  “If  we 
couldn’t  do  any  better  than  that  there  would  be  no  use  of  our 
voting.” 

“There’s  only  one  thing  I can  think  of  to  head  off  this  suf- 
frage movement,”  said  the  mere  man. 

“What  is  that?”  asked  his  wife. 

“Make  the  legal  age  for  voting  thirty-five  instead  of  twenty- 
one.” — Catholic  Universe. 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


481 


Mamie — “I  believe  in  woman’s  rights.” 

Gertie— “Then  you  think  every  woman  should  have  a vote?” 

Mamie — “No;  but  I think  every  woman  should  have  a 
voter.” — The  Woman's  Journal . 

During  the  Presidential  campaign  the  question  of  woman 
suffrage  was  much  discussed  among  women  pro  and  con,  and 
at  an  afternoon  tea  the  conversation  turned  that  way  between 
the  women  guests. 

“Are  you  a woman  suffragist?”  asked  the  one  who  was 
most  interested. 

“Indeed,  I am  not,”  replied  the  other  most  emphatically. 

“Oh,  that’s  too  bad,  but  just  supposing  you  were,  whom 
would  you  support  in  the  present  campaign?” 

“The  same  man  I’ve  always  supported,  of  course,”  was  the 
apt  reply — “my  husband.” 

See  also  Suffragettes. 

WOMEN’S  CLUBS 

See  Clubs. 


See  Authors. 


WORDS 


WORK 

All  work  and  no  play 

Makes  Jack  surreptitiously  gay. 

“Wot  cheer,  Alf?  Yer  lookin’  sick;  wot  is  it?” 

“Work ! nuffink  but  work,  work,  work,  from  mornin’  till 
night !” 

“’Ow  long  ’ave  yer  been  at  it?” 

“Start  tomorrow.” — Punch. 


Several  men  were  discussing  the  relative  importance  and 
difficulty  of  mental  and  physical  work,  and  one  of  them  told 
the  following  experience : 

“Several  years  ago,  a tramp,  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of 
physical  manhood  that  I have  ever  seen,  dropped  into  my  yard 


482 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


and  asked  me  for  work.  The  first  day  I put  him  to  work  help- 
ing to  move  some  heavy  rocks,  and  he  easily  did  as  much 
work  as  any  two  other  men,  and  yet  was  as  fresh  as  could 
be  at  the  end  of  the  day. 

“The  next  morning,  having  no  further  use  for  him,  I told 
him  he  could  go;  but  he  begged  so  hard  to  remain  that  I let 
him  go  into  the  cellar  and  empty  some  apple  barrels,  putting 
the  good  apples  into  one  barrel  and  throwing  away  the  rotten 
ones — about  a half  hour’s  work. 

“At  the  end  of  two  hours  he  was  still  in  the  cellar,  and 
I went  down  to  see  what  the  trouble  was.  I found  him  only 
half  through,  but  almost  exhausted,  beads  of  perspiration  on 
his  brow. 

“‘What’s  the  matter?’  I asked.  ‘Surely  that  work  isn’t 
hard.’ 

“ ‘No  not  hard,”  he  replied.  ‘But  the  strain  on  the  judg- 
ment is  awful'" 

• 1 

See  also  Rest  cure. 


WORMS 

A country  girl  was  home  from  college  for  the  Christmas 
holidays  and  the  old  folks  were  having  a reception  in  her 
honor.  During  the  event  she  brought  out  some  of  her  new 
gowns  to  show  to  the  guests.  Picking  up  a beautiful  silk  cre- 
ation she  held  it  up  before  the  admiring  crowd. 

“Isn’t  thi$  perfectly  gorgeous !”  she  exclaimed.  “Just  think, 
it  came  from  a poor  little  insignificant  worm !” 

Her  hard-working  father  looked  a moment,  then  he  turned 
and  said:  “Yes,  darn  it,  an’  I’m  that  worm!” 


YALE  UNIVERSITY 

The  new  cook,  who  had  come  into  the  household  during 
the  holidays,  asked  her  mistress : 

“Where  ban  your  son?  I not  seeing  him  round  no  more.” 
“My  son,”  replied  the  mistress  pridefully.  “Oh,  he  has  gone 


TOASTER'S  HANDBOOK 


483 


back  to  Yale.  He  could  only  get  away  long  enough  to  stay 
until  New  Year’s  day,  you  see.  I miss  him  dreadfully,  tho.” 

“Yas,  I knowing  yoost  how  you  feel.  My  broder,  he  ban  in 
yail  sax  times  since  Tanksgiving.” 

YONKERS 

An  American  took  an  Englishman  to  a theater.  An  actor 
in  the  farce,  about  to  die,  exclaimed : “Please,  dear  wife,  don’t 
bury  me  in  Yonkers!” 

The  Englishman  turned  to  his  friend  and  said : “I  say,  old 
chap,  what  are  yonkers?” 


“YOU” 

Here’s  to  the  world,  the  merry  old  world, 
To  its  days  both  bright  and  blue; 

Here’s  to  our  future,  be  it  what  it  may, 
And  here’s  to  my  best — that’s  you! 


ZONES 

Teacher — “How  many  zones  has  the  earth?” 

Pupil — “Five.” 

Teacher — “Correct.  Name  them.” 

Pupil — “Temperate  zone,  intemperate,  canal,  horrid,  and  o.” 

—Life. 


■ 

1 


' 


